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Prom  the  Sooks  of 
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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MECHANISMS  OF  CHARACTER 
FORMATION 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •    BOSTON  •   CHICAGO  •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO 
PSYCHOANALYSIS 


BY 

WILLIAM  A.  WHITE,  M.D. 


"That  statement  only  is  fit  to  be  made 
public  which  you  have  come  at  in  at- 
tempting to  satisfy  your  own  curiosity." 
R.  W.  EMEHSON,  Spiritual  Laws 


f  nrfe 
THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1918 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1916. 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Sat  up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  October,  1916. 
Reprinted  February,  1918. 


WM 
•I  oo 


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PREFACE 


Psychology  seems  always  to  have  been  in  danger  of 
gravitating,  on  the  one  hand,  in  the  direction  of  meta- 
physical abstractions  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the 
direction  of  a  refined  physiology.  The  carefully 
conducted  laboratory  researches  under  wholly  arti- 
ficial conditions,  have,  as  a  rule  attracted  little  gen- 
eral interest  and  therefore  had  few  practical  re- 
sults. Certainly  the  field  of  mental  medicine  has 
benefited  practically  not  at  all  as  a  result  of  all 
the  years  of  laboratory  psychology.  A  man  seems 
to  have  been  considered  by  the  psychologist  as  an 
object  of  experiment  and  rarely  as  a  human  being 
in  a  social  environment.  True,  the  behaviorists 
may  change  all  this  but  in  the  meantime  a  new  psy- 
chology has  come  into  existence,  borne  of  the  suffer- 
ings and  the  heart  aches  of  the  mentally  ill — the 
psychology  which  is  called  psychoanalysis  and,  no 
matter  what  the  remote  history  of  events  preceding 
its  birth,  properly  also  bears  the  name  of  its  real 
creator,  Prof.  Sigmund  Freud  of  Vienna — Freudian. 
This  is  a  psychology  which  had  its  origin  in  trying 
to  help  sick  people,  in  trying  to  alleviate  their  suf- 
ferings and  from  the  very  first  dealt  with  men  and 
women  in  the  raw,  as  they  really  were.  This  is  the 
psychology  I  propose  to  give  in  outline  in  this  book 
and  which  might  well  be  called  Humanistic  not  only 


PREFACE 

in  the  accepted  Protagorean  meaning  of  that  term 
but  also  because  it  deals  with  human  beings,  their 
hopes  and  fears,  their  aspirations  and  despairs, 
their  good  and  their  evil  qualities  as  every  one,  but 
especially  the  priest  and  the  physician  knows  them. 
It  is  a  psychology  which  has  opened  the  door  to  the 
understanding  of  man  and  as  such  I  believe  is  the 
psychology  which  will  prove  of  the  greatest  prag- 
matic advantage.  It  is  some  such  scheme  as  I  have 
outlined  in  this  work  which  I  think  should  be  taught 
in  the  medical  schools.  Later  it  will  find,  I  am  sure, 
a  much  wider  usefulness.  Surely,  however,  the 
physician  should  know  something  of  the  principles 
which  govern  the  operations  of  the  most  important 
of  all  the  endowments  of  man.  He  should  have  some 
guides  to  help  him  to  a  real  understanding  of  his 
patients  and  to  point  added  ways  to  help  them  in 
their  difficulties.  A  properly  understood  mental 
symptom  may  easily  be  the  most  important  means 
of  dealing  with  a  given  situation.  The  physician, 
therefore,  of  all  men,  should  try  to  see  deeper  than 
the  spoken  word,  he  should  be  able  to  see  what  is 
hidden  beneath.  Such  knowledge  is  often  of  ines- 
timable value.  This  volume  on  The  Mechanisms  of 
Character  Formation,  merely  tries  to  lay  down  the 
broad  principles  which  underlie  human  behaviour 
and  which  are  necessary  to  comprehend  before  one 
can  have  a  real  appreciation  of  mental  facts  and 
their  true  meanings. 

W.  A.  W. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEB  PAGE 

PREFACE        v 

I    INTRODUCTION 1 

II    THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  TO  THE  PROBLEM  OF 

CONSCIOUSNESS 14 

III  THE  FORE-CONSCIOUS  AND  THE  UNCONSCIOUS    .    35 

IV  THE  CONFLICT 62 

V    SYMBOLISM 76 

VI    DREAM  MECHANISMS 117 

VII    THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE 145 

VIII    THE  WILL  TO  POWER 177 

The  All-Powerfulness  of  Thought 

IX    THE  WILL  TO  POWER  (cont.) 195 

Partial  Libido  Strivings 

X    EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION     ....  217 

XI    ORGAN  INFERIORITY 245 

XII    THE  RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT   ....  270 

XIII    SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS 317 

INDEX  .  337 


MECHANISMS  OF  CHARACTER 
FORMATION 

CHAPTER  I 
INTBODTJCTION 

It  has  been  said  that  to  write  the  history  of  hys- 
teria would  be  to  write  the  history  of  medicine. 
The  same  might  equally  well  be  said  of  psy- 
chopathology,  for  mental  disease  is  always  with 
us  and  always  has  been  and  in  the  form  of 
hysteria  is  peculiarly  calculated  to  attract  atten- 
tion. For  the  purposes  of  this  work  such  an 
extensive  historical  programme  is  unnecessary. 
Present  day  positions  are,  for  the  most  part,  out- 
growths of  comparatively  recent  tendencies,  so  a 
rapid  study  of  these  tendencies  will  place  us  in  a 
position  to  take  up  the  various  problems  as  they 
now  present  themselves. 

Until  the  present  generation  mental  disease  had 
been  looked  upon  from  a  most  superficial  and  shallow 
standpoint — it  had  been,  and  is  still  to  a  large  ex- 
tent, in  the  descriptive  stage  of  development.  De- 
scription and  classification  have  been  the  moving 
forjes  back  of  its  study.  In  fact,  it  as  only  a  few 
years  since  the  most  frequent  question  asked  of  a 

psychiatrist,  or  hospital  superintendent,  was  "What 

i 


2  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

classification  do  you  use?"  and  writers  of  books  for 
a  hundred  years  have  laid  great  weight  upon  the 
question  of  classification.  In  the  eighteenth  and 
early  nineteenth  centuries,  in  France  particularly,  a 
Linnean  type  of  classification  and  naming  was  used 
following  down  each  psychosis  to  its  genus  and 
species,  a  method  that  has  sent  its  reverberations 
through  the  years  until  its  force  finally  spent  itself 
in  such  residuals  as  we  see  in  Krafft-Ebing  and 
Ziehen. 

In  these  days  of  description  and  classification  the 
patient's  symptoms  were  carefully  observed.  If  he 
talked  in  broken  sentences  that  had  no  obvious  mean- 
ing to  the  listener,  why  then  he  was  incoherent  and 
incoherence  was  put  down  as  one  of  his  symptoms  to 
be  later  woven  into  the  description  of  the  psychosis 
which  was  then  duly  classified  and  finally  named. 
The  naming  of  a  psychosis  had  become  a  matter  of 
importance  all  out  of  proportion  to  issues  which 
we  now  look  upon  as  vital. 

In  an  old  manuscript  *  of  about  370  B.  c.  a  conver- 
sation is  recorded  between  Morosophus,  an  Ele- 
atic  philosopher  and  Protagoras,  of  Abdera.  Pro- 
tagoras has  just  been  describing  the  colour  blindness 
of  Xanthias,  the  son  of  Glaucus,  and  telling  how  he 
saw  colours  differently  from  others.  Morosophus 
answers  by  saying:  "But  surely  Xanthias  was 
diseased,  and  his  judgments  about  colour  are  of  no 
more  importance  than  those  of  a  madman."  To 
which  Protagoras  replies:  "You  do  not  get  rid  of 

iThe  Papyri  of  Philonous. 


INTRODUCTION  3 

the  difference  by  calling  it  madness  and  disease. 
And  how  would  you  define  the  essential  nature  of 
madness  and  disease?" 

The  same  criticism  may  be  made  of  the  purely  de- 
scriptive method.  We  do  not  get  rid  of  the  symp- 
tom by  calling  it  incoherence  and  then  after  all — 
What  is  the  essential  nature  of  incoherence?  The 
giving  of  the  observed  facts  a  name  has  not  added 
to  our  understanding  of  them.  The  botanist  can 
describe  a  flower,  count  the  petals,  sepals,  and  sta- 
mens and  describe  their  size,  shape  and  colour  but 
it  took  a  poet  to  flood  these  empty  statistics  2  with 
light  by  showing  that  they  are  all  modifications  of 
one  of  the  fundamental  plant  structures — the  leaf. 

The  present  generation  has  witnessed  a  like  change 
in  viewpoint  in  the  domain  of  psychopathology.  It 
is  no  longer  sufficient  to  record  a  symptom  and  de- 
scribe it  in  minute  detail.  It  has  not  been  satisfac- 
torily dealt  with  until  an  attempt  at  least  has  been 
made  to  answer  the  question,  What  does  it  mean? 
Present  day  psychopathology  insists  that  all  psychic 
facts  of  observation  have  meaning.  This  is  its  great 
contribution  to  the  field  of  mental  medicine. 

This  change  of  the  psychopathological  viewpoint 
from  the  descriptive  to  the  interpretative  had  its 
beginnings  in  the  study  of  the  neuroses  and  psycho- 
neuroses  and  in  its  early  days  was  associated  with 
the  study  and  use  of  hypnotism  as  a  therapeutic 
agent.  The  subject  of  hypnotism  or  rather  mes- 
merism was  dramatically  exploited  by  Mesmer  in 

2  Goethe  in  his  "Metamorphosis  of  Plants." 


4  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  eighteenth  century.  How  sincere  Mesmer  was 
in  his  belief  as  to  the  therapeutic  value  of  this  method 
is  perhaps  open  to  question,  but  his  methods,  as  we 
look  back  upon  them  now,  certainly  smack  of  the 
methods  of  the  charlatan.  It  was  not  until  1841  that 
the  work  of  Braid  of  Manchester  established  the 
theory  of  suggestion  upon  a  scientific  basis.  It  is 
to  him  too  that  we  owe  the  name  " hypnotism."  He 
discarded  the  idea  of  a  magnetic  fluid,  believed  that 
the  hypnotic  state  was  the  result  of  a  purely  physio- 
logical condition  of  the  nervous  system  and  that  the 
sleep  was  due  to  the  fatigue  of  the  eyelids  and  the 
concentration  of  attention. 

The  study  of  hypnotic  phenomena  was  pursued 
by  the  Medical  School  of  Nancy  under  Lie- 
bault  and  at  the  Salpetriere  by  Charcot.  Charcot 
did  not  begin  his  investigations  until  1878.  In  the 
meantime  Liebault  had  published  his  work  on  * l  sleep 
and  analogous  states  considered  especially  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  action  of  the  moral  on  the 
physical"  (1866)  and  his  work  followed  by  that  of 
Bernheim,  Beaunis,  and  Liegeois  served  to  reanimate 
the  interest  in  hypnotism.  The  Nancy  school  did  a 
great  service  to  the  cause  by  getting  rid  of  the  oc- 
cult and  the  mysterious  such  as  the  phenomena  de- 
scribed by  Luys  which  were  produced  in  patients  by 
approaching  them  with  a  magnet  or  with  drugs  or 
poisons  in  sealed  tubes.  All  such  matters  were  in- 
vestigated and  very  simply  explained  from  a  psycho- 
logical standpoint  and  the  whole  matter  reduced  to  a 
common  sense  basis  for  further  scientific  work. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

In  the  meantime  various  studies  were  appearing 
of  marked  types  of  memory  loss,  amnesia,  for  whole 
sections  of  the  patient's  life.  MacNish  had  pub- 
lished in  his  " Philosophy  of  Sleep"  (1830)  his  case 

of  Madame  X ,  Azam  in  1858  had  begun  his  study 

of  the  classical  case  of  Felida,  Dufay  had  published 

his  case  of  somnambulism  of  Mile.  K.  L. (1876), 

Bourru  and  Burot  published  their  studies  of  the 

successive  personalities  of  Louis  V (1888),  who 

was  studied  by  many  authors  besides  from  1882  to 
1889. 

The  common  characteristic  of  all  of  these  cases 
was  that  the  patients  suffered  from  "attacks"  or, 
as  they  have  been  called  "secondary  states,"  dur- 
ing which  their  whole  conduct  and  manner  was  quite 
different  from  usual.  These  secondary  states  are 
of  varying  lengths  of  duration  but  when  the  patient 
emerges  from  them  there  is  no  memory  for  what  has 
happened  during  them.  Thus  we  have  the  picture 
of  these  secondary  states  alternating  with  the  or- 
dinary state  of  the  individual  and  replacing  it  for 
varying  periods  giving  rise  to  the  phenomena  of 
double  personality,  or  if  there  is  more  than  one 
variety  of  secondary  states,  to  the  phenomena  of 
multiple  personality. 

This  phenomenon  of  multiple  personality  was  ex- 
plained upon  the  presumption  that  certain  constel- 
lations of  ideas  and  affects,  certain  portions  of  the 
personality,  were  capable  of  breaking  away,  becom- 
ing dissociated  from  the  main  body  and  leading 
a  quasi-independent  existence,  perhaps  finally  at- 


6  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

trading  enough  material  to  themselves  and  becom- 
ing sufficiently  highly  organised  to  constitute  a  more 
or  less  distinct  personality  capable  of  independent 
existence  as  such.  Thus  arose  the  hypothesis  of 
dissociation. 

Inasmuch  as,  during  the  usual  condition  of  the 
patient,  all  of  the  occurrences  of  the  secondary 
state  were  forgotten,  there  was  complete  amnesia 
for  these  states,  the  patients  coming  out  of  them  with 
absolutely  no  knowledge  of  what  had  been  going  on 
during  them,  and  despite  the  fact  that  while  they  were 
in  the  ascendant  the  patients  may  have  appeared 
perfectly  natural  and  conducted  themselves  in  a  rea- 
sonable and  natural  way,  some  hypothesis  had  to  be 
formulated  to  account  for  the  existence  of  these  con- 
stellations of  ideas  of  the  secondary  states  when  the 
normal  personality  resumed  its  sway.  The  hypoth- 
esis of  the  subconscious  answered  these  require- 
ments by  positing  a  region  outside  of  consciousness, 
beneath  the  conscious  threshold,  in  which  that  por- 
tion of  the  personality  was  resident  which  came  to 
the  surface  during  the  secondary  states.  This  hy- 
pothesis also  accounted  for  the  amnesia  for  these 
states. 

Other  cases  of  double  and  multiple  personalities 
and  various  types  of  dissociated  states  were  pub- 
lished after  this,  especially  by  Flournoy,  and  in  this 
country  by  Sidis,  Prince,  White  and  others,  while 
in  France  the  noteworthy  work  of  Alfred  Binet  ap- 
peared (1891)  which  was  later  translated  (1896) 
under  the  title  " Alterations  of  Personality"  and 


INTRODUCTION  7 

the  many  writings  of  Pierre  Janet,  notable  among 
which  are  "The  Mental  State  of  Hystericals"  (Eng- 
lish translation  1901),  "The  Major  Symptoms  of 
Hysteria"  (Harvard  Lectures  1907)  and  "Les 
Nevroses"  (1909). 

All  of  this  work  on  hypnotism  and  the  neuroses 
tended  to  culminate  in  Janet's  formulations  of  the 
nature  of  the  neuroses,  especially  hysteria,  and  in 
theories  of  the  nature  of  hypnosis,  which  latter 
tended  to  include  the  neuroses.  Janet  says  of  hys- 
teria 3  that  it  is  "a  form  of  mental  depression  char- 
acterised by  a  retraction  of  the  field  of  personal 
consciousness  and  by  a  tendency  to  the  dissociation 
and  the  emancipation  of  systems  of  ideas  which  by 
their  synthesis  constitute  the  personality."  The 
retraction  of  the  field  of  consciousness  and  the  dis- 
sociation of  systems  of  ideas  are  the  important  ele- 
ments in  this  definition,  and  from  what  has  already 
been  said  we  know  what  is  meant.  Naturally  the 
dissociation  of  a  portion  of  the  personality  will  nar- 
row the  field  of  consciousness. 

In  addition  to  his  work  on  hysteria  Janet  endeav- 
oured to  separate  4  another  group  of  symptoms,  in- 
cluding the  obsessions,  impulsions,  doubts,  tics,  agi- 
tations, phobias,  delirium  of  contact,  anguishes,  neu- 
rasthenias, and  the  feelings  of  strangeness  and  de- 
personalisation  often  described  under  the  name  of 
cerebro-cardiac  neuropathy  or  disease  of  Krishaber, 
under  the  term  of  psychasthenia.  This  group  of 
symptoms  he  attributed  to  a  lowering  of  the  psycho- 

3  "Lea  N6vroses."  *Loc..cit. 


logical  tension  and  a  loss  of  the  function  of  the  real. 
His  definition  of  psychasthenia  runs:  "Psychas- 
thenia  is  a  form  of  mental  depression  characterised 
by  the  lowering  of  the  psychological  tension,  by  the 
diminution  of  the  functions  which  permit  action  on 
reality  and  perception  of  the  real,  by  the  substitu- 
tion of  inferior  and  exaggerated  operations  under 
the  form  of  doubts,  agitations,  anguish,  and  by  ob- 
sessing ideas  which  express  the  preceding  troubles 
and  which  present  themselves  the  same  characters. ' ' 
The  lowering  of  the  psychological  tension  and  the 
defect  in  the  function  of  the  real  permit  types  of 
reaction  to  assume  control  in  accordance  with  what 
he  terms  the  hierarchy  of  psychological  phe- 
nomena. 

The  fundamental  symptom  of  psychasthenia  is 
this  lowering  of  psychological  tension.  If  we  can 
think  of  psychic  energy  in  mechanical  terms  and 
conceive  of  it  as  flowing  along  the  fibre  tracts  like 
steam  in  a  pipe,  then  we  may  believe  that  this  force 
has  to  be  maintained  at  a  certain  tension  in  order 
that  the  perceptions  from  the  outside  world  may 
be  appreciated  at  their  true  value.  If  attention  is 
lowered  the  perceptions  are  not  acute.  This  lack 
of  acuteness  gives  origin  to  feelings  on  the  part  of 
the  patient  of  incompleteness  and  insufficiency. 
Now  this  state  of  affairs  involves  a  certain  deficiency 
in  the  perception  of  reality  which  requires  a  certain 
concentration,  in  other  words,  a  high  psychological 
tension.  The  lowering  of  psychological  tension, 
feelings  of  incompleteness,  and  deficiency  in  the 


INTRODUCTION  9 

"function  of  the  real"  constitutes  the  fundamental 
feature  of  all  this  class  of  phenomena. 

To  use  another  illustration.  It  is  assumed  that 
the  perception  of  reality  requires  a  high  psycholog- 
ical tension.  It  is  as  if  the  normal  response  to 
reality  were  represented  by  the  explosion  of  one 
hundred  grains  of  gunpowder  and  the  psychasthenic 
response  were  represented  by,  say  seventy  grains. 
In  other  words,  unless  the  tension  is  high,  the  po- 
tential up  to  a  certain  point,  the  resulting  explo- 
sion is  an  inadequate  reaction,  gives  but  a  faint  idea 
of  what  it  really  should  be. 

The  psychasthenic  symptoms  are  based  upon  this 
inadequate  perception  of  reality.  The  hazy  view 
of  the  world  resulting  from  the  lowered  psycholog- 
ical tension  results  in  hazy,  inaccurate  ways  of 
thinking,  while  lack  of  efficient  perception  makes  the 
world  of  reality  seem  strange,  unknowable,  and  at 
times  of  stress  it  seems  to  the  psychasthenic  that 
this  vast  external  world  of  reality  would  close  in 
upon  him  and  crush  him.  It  is  the  strange,  the 
not-understood,  the  mysterious  of  which  we  are 
afraid  and  so  are  accounted  for  the  states  of  fear 
and  anguish. 

The  lowered  psychological  tension  gives  rise  to 
various  symptoms  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of 
lowering.  If  the  mental  functions  are  erected  into 
a  hierarchy,  in  accordance  with  Janet's  scheme,  the 
accurate  estimation  of  reality  stands  first,  revery 
and  imagination  come  lower  down,  and  muscular 
movements  last.  As  the  tension  is  lowered  reac- 


10  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

tions  will  tend  to  follow  in  the  order  of  this  psycho- 
logical hierarchy. 

In  these  definitions  of  Janet  is  seen  a  distinct  ad- 
vance upon  the  simple  descriptive  method  and  a 
decided  attempt  at  analysis  of  symptoms  and  the 
formulation  of  interpretations. 

Janet  concludes  that  the  hypnotic  state  is  of  the 
same  nature  as  hysterical  somnambulism.  In  other 
words  to  be  suggestible  is  to  be  hysterical  and  only 
hysterics  can  be  hypnotised.  Sidis  lays  great  stress 
upon  the  process  of  dissociation,  the  principle  of 
dynamogenesis  and  automatic  activity  of  the  disso- 
ciated systems,  the  cure  by  reassociation  and  the 
fundamental  nature  of  what  he  calls  the  hypnoidal 
state.  The  hypnoidal  state  he  believes  is  the  primi- 
tive rest  state  of  animals  and  in  the  higher  animals 
has  by  differentiation  developed  into  sleep.  Under 
certain  conditions  hypnosis  may  develop  instead  of 
sleep.  The  hypnoidal  state  therefore  occupies  an 
intermediate  position  between  waking  and  sleep  on 
the  one  hand  and  waking  and  hypnosis  on  the  other. 
Sollier  believed  hysteria  to  be  sleep,  localised  or  gen- 
eralised, temporary  or  permanent  of  the  cerebral 
centres.  We  shall  have  occasion  later  to  note  the 
significance  of  these  hypotheses  which  correlate  hyp- 
nosis and  the  neurosis  with  sleep. 

Contemporaneous  with  these  latter  events,  how- 
ever, Janet  himself  had  seen  the  relation  between 
dissociation  and  actual  experiences  and  also  had 
noted  that  the  conduct  of  the  patient  in  the  second- 
ary states  pointed  to  a  psychological  content  related 


INTRODUCTION  11 

to  these  experiences.  These  same  facts  had  also 
been  more  or  less  clearly  recognised  in  other  quar- 
ters, by  Prince,  Sidis,  White  and  others. 

On  the  other  hand  in  the  field  of  the  psychoses 
proper  matters  had  been  progressing,  but  along 
somewhat  different  lines.  Perhaps  the  most  notable 
effort  to  break  away  from  the  simplistic  descriptive 
level  was  that  of  Wernicke  in  his  "Grundriss  der 
Psychiatric."  In  general  he  endeavoured  to  do 
two  things,  to  get  at  more  accurately  the  content  of 
the  psychosis  and  also  to  formulate  some  principles 
as  to  the  localisation  of  the  disease  process  based 
upon  the  general  principles  worked  out  in  the 
aphasias. 

Kraepelin  struck  out  in  a  somewhat  different  di- 
rection and  considered  the  psychoses  from  the  life 
history  point  of  view  and  divided  them  in  accord- 
ance with  their  course  and  outcome  into  benign  or 
recoverable  and  deterioration  groups.  In  various 
other  directions  we  see  efforts  at  explanation,  of 
which  the  best  known  are  the  efforts  of  the  patholo- 
gists  in  their  studies  of  the  changes  in  the  micro- 
scopic structure  of  the  brain  cells,  and  the  chemists 
in  their  studies  of  metabolism,  the  changes  in  the 
various  bodily  fluids,  etc.  Kleist  tried  to  correlate 
the  motor  disturbances  of  the  psychoses  with  the 
anatomical  facts,  Boltont  in  his  recent  book,  has 
endeavoured  to  explain  the  clinical  pictures  by  a 
minute  study  of  the  cortex,  while  in  such  works  as 
that  of  Gierlich  and  Friedmann5  we  begin  to  see 

5  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease,  Monograph  Series,  No.  2. 


12  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

decided  traces  of  an  attempt  to  read  meaning  into 
the  psychological  symptoms  as  such  much  after  the 
manner  of  Janet,  Sidis,  and  White. 

All  this  growth  and  development  were  necessary 
preconditions  for  future  progress.  In  1895  Breuer 
and  Freud  published  their  "Studien  iiber  Hys- 
terie"6  in  which  they  indicated  that  the  hysterical 
amnesias  were  for  painful  events  and  the  amnesia 
was  a  defence  against  the  pain  that  would  result 
if  they  were  recalled.  Following  this  publication 
Breuer  dropped  out  of  the  work  but  Freud  kept  on 
publishing  and  inaugurated  what  is  now  called  the 
Freudian  movement  in  mental  medicine. 

Up  to  the  appearance  of  Freud  the  various  hypoth- 
eses had  been  pretty  well  worked  out.  Even  the 
dissociation  hypothesis  of  Janet,  Prince,  and  Sidis 
had  given  about  all  it  could  to  the  interpretation 
of  abnormal  mental  states.  It  seemed  to  have  log- 
ically gotten  to  the  end  of  its  tether.  Freud,  for  the 
first  time,  formulated  an  hypothesis  which  consid- 
ered that  each  psychic  event  had  a  history  and  which 
has  led  to  the  same  recognition  of  the  value  of  the 
past  of  the  psyche  which  has  been  for  so  long  ac- 
corded to  the  past  of  the  body  in  the  sciences  of  em- 
bryology and  comparative  anatomy.  This  past  does 
not  have  only  a  temporal  significance  but,  as  in  the 
sciences  of  embryology  and  comparative  anatomy, 
a  much  greater  significance  expressed  in  terms  of 
developmental  progress.  To  understand,  there- 

e  Largely  translated  in  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease  Monograph 
Series,  No.  4. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

fore,  the  meaning  of  a  given  psychic  event  means 
that  the  problem  of  its  meaning  must,  quite  as  in 
the  case  of  the  body,  be  approached  from  the  genetic 
point  of  view. 


CHAPTEE  H 

THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  TO  THE  PROBLEM  OF 
CONSCIOUSNESS 

In  the  growth  and  development  of  science  there 
necessarily  has  to  be  passed  through  a  stage  which 
is  devoted  to  the  observation  and  collection  of  facts 
before  general  laws  can  be  formulated  which  are 
calculated  to  explain  these  facts,  before  meaning 
can  be  read  into  them.  The  observation  and  col- 
lection of  facts  belongs  to  the  descriptive  stage  of 
development,  while  the  explanation  of  their  mean- 
ings belongs  to  the  interpretative  stage.  Plants  and 
animals  in  large  numbers  had  necessarily  first  to 
be  described  and  classified  before  such  a  far  reach- 
ing generalisation,  for  example,  as  Darwin's,  to 
account  for  the  origin  of  species,  could  be  formu- 
lated. 

Such  far  reaching  interpretative  formulations  will 
be  found,  upon  examination,  to  presuppose  a  de- 
terministic attitude  of  mind  that  proceeds  upon  the 
assumption  that  none  of  the  phenomena  in  question 
are  sufficiently  accounted  for  on  the  theory  that 
they  are  accidental  or  fortuitous  in  origin,  but  that, 
on  the  contrary,  they  have  only  been  made  possible 
by  what  has  gone  before,  namely  by  an  efficient 
cause.  This  deterministic  attitude,  which  sees  in 

14 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  15 

every  phenomenon  only  the  outgrowth  of  that  which 
preceded  only,  has  to  be  elaborated  in  order  to  re- 
alise that  a  complete  explanation  would  involve  a 
complete  uncovering  of  the  past.  In  other  words 
any  phenomenon  can  only  be  understood  as  the  cul- 
mination of  a  series  of  events  and  is  only  what  it 
is  because  they  were  what  they  were.  The  meaning 
of  any  particular  fact  is  therefore  only  to  be  gath- 
ered when  we  have  learned  its  history ;  we  can  only 
understand  it  when  we  have  come  to  know  its  past 
which  made  it  possible.  This  is  the  genetic  ap- 
proach which  considers  phenomena  as  end  results 
to  be  understood  only  by  understanding  their  past 
out  of  which  they  grew  and  of  which  they  are  an 
expression. 

In  the  sphere  of  the  psyche  it  is  but  natural  that 
a  definite  deterministic  and  genetic  method  should 
be  long  delayed  as  we  are  not  only  dealing  with 
phenomena  which  are  so  complex  as  to  be  too  long 
a  way  from  concretely  expressed  laws  for  us  to  see 
any  possibilities  of  explanation  but,  too,  we  have 
been  dominated  for  generations  by  the  theory  that 
psychic  events,  many  of  them  at  least,  are  brought 
about  "at  will"  in  some  mysterious  way  which 
precludes  the  necessity  of  even  attempting  to  bring 
them  under  the  operation  of  natural  laws. 

A  reaction  from  this  crude  conception  of  mental 
phenomena,  from  this  hit  and  miss  type  of  explana- 
tion which  explains  mental  facts  by  the  most  ob- 
vious superficial  causes  and  relegates  many  of  them 
to  the  category  of  accidental  or  chance  occurrences, 


16 

has  come  about  in  recent  years  as  the  result  of  a 
clearer  understanding  of  the  reasons  of  certain 
types  of  mental  reactions,  with  a  result  that  the 
theory  of  determinism  has  definitely  taken  its  place 
in  the  field  of  psychology, — a  place  that  it  has  long 
occupied  in  the  biological  sciences.  The  difference 
between  this  method  of  chance  explanation  and  the 
method  of  determinism,  which  demands  that  for 
every  phenomenon  there  must  be  an  efficient  cause, 
can  perhaps  be  best  illustrated  by  certain  biological 
experiments.  I  will  call  attention  to  two  small 
aquatic  Crustacea  1  of  the  same  genus,  but  for  a  long 
time  considered  of  separate  species.  The  Artemia 
salina,  which  was  only  found  in  water  containing 
from  4  to  8  per  cent,  of  salt,  and  the  Artemia  Mil- 
hausenii,  which  was  only  found  in  water  containing 
at  least  25  per  cent,  of  salt.  The  differences  in  these 
supposedly  different  species  consisted  in  the  main 
in  the  differences  in  the  size  and  shape  of  the  tail 
lobes  and  number  of  hairs  borne  by  these  lobes.  It 
has  been  definitely  shown  by  experiment  that  these 
two  species  could  at  will  be  transformed  one  into 
the  other  by  varying  the  percentage  of  salt  in  the 
water,  and  this  transformation  was  so  accurately 
dependent  upon  the  percentage  of  salt  that  with  a 
given  percentage  of  salt  it  was  possible  to  predict 
with  perfect  certainty  a  definite  length  of  tail  with 
a  definite  number  of  hairs  borne  upon  its  lobes. 

i Marshall:  "Biological  Lectures  and  Addresses."  II.  The  In- 
fluence of  environment  on  the  Structure  and  Habits  of  Animals. 
Macmillan  &  Co.,  New  York,  1894. 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  17 

In  other  words,  what  appeared  to  be  an  entirely 
fortuitous  characteristic  of  these  two  species  was  in 
some  way  accurately  dependent  upon  the  percent- 
age of  salt  in  the  water  which  they  inhabited. 

A  perhaps  somewhat  more  instructive  example  is 
the  example  of  heliotropism  in  certain  animals  and 
plants.  It  has  been  known  for  a  long  time  that 
animals  and  plants  were  in  some  way  attracted  or 
repelled  from  sources  of  light.  The  old  biologists 
were  content  with  saying  that  they  liked  or  did  not 
like  light.  Such  an  explanation,  it  goes  without 
saying,  was  superficial  and  unsatisfying.  Accurate 
experimentation  has  proven  precisely  the  conditions 
under  which  these  phenomena  manifest  themselves, 
and  has  shown  also  the  inadequacy  of  this  type  of 
explanation. 

Loeb  demonstrated  that  what  actually  took  place 
was  that  the  plant  or  animal  in  question  moved,  not 
necessarily  toward  the  lightness  or  darkness,  and 
was  therefore  positively  or  negatively  heliotropic, 
but  moved  in  the  direction  of  the  rays  of  light  even 
though  at  times  this  took  a  positively  heliotropic 
animal  into  a  relatively  less  lighted  area.  He  ex- 
perimented2 with  the  caterpillar  of  the  Porthesia 
chrysorrhoea  by  placing  two  test  tubes  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  rays  of  light  entering  from  a  window. 
In  the  rear  test  tube  he  placed  the  caterpillars.  A 
second  test  tube  between  this  and  the  window  he  cov- 

2  Loeb :  "Studies  in  General  Physiology."  I.  The  Heliotropism 
of  Animals  and  its  identity  with  the  Heliotropism  of  Plants.  Uni- 
versity of  Chicago  Press,  1905. 


18  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ered  with  black  paper,  with  the  exception  of  a  nar- 
row strip  running  lengthwise  with  the  tube.  The 
caterpillars  moved  from  the  brightly  lighted  unpro- 
tected test  tube  into  the  darker  test  tube,  and  al- 
though they  are  positively  heliotropic  they  moved 
from  a  lighter  to  a  darker  area,  but  in  common  with 
all  such  motions,  however,  they  moved  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  light  rays. 

We  see  in  these  tropisms  very  definite  reactions 
of  organisms  to  specific  influences  in  the  environ- 
ment, and  we  are  tempted  to  see  certain  analogies  in 
the  realm  of  mental  action  and  to  conclude  that 
mental  action  is  always  definitely  determined,  and 
if  perchance  the  reasons  for  any  special  mental  re- 
action are  not  apparent  it  is  because,  unlike  the 
example  of  the  caterpillar  just  given,  the  conditions 
which  bring  it  about  are  highly  complex  and  are  the 
resultant  of  many  impulses  acting  in  various  and 
often  in  opposite  directions.  The  movement  of  the 
caterpillar  from  the  light  into  the  darkness  one  is 
tempted  to  compare  with  the  movement  of  a  man, 
who,  in  the  summer  time,  will  cross  a  brightly  lighted 
street  to  get  on  the  shady  side. 

The  fortuitous  and  apparently  accidental  occur- 
rence of  certain  mental  phenomena  in  the  psychoses 
has  been  constantly  assumed,  and  it  is  only  recently 
that  we  are  getting  away  from  this  viewpoint  to  the 
deterministic  one  as  I  have  already  illustrated. 
The  same  thing  happened  in  biology  with  regard  to 
this  class  of  phenomena  also.  I  refer  to  the  phe- 
nomena of  heteromorphosis  such  as  the  older  biol- 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  19 

ogists  had  observed.  For  example,3  the  occasional 
regeneration  of  a  tail  in  the  place  where  the  head 
ought  to  be  in  certain  lower  animals.  This,  like  the 
phenomena  just  mentioned,  however,  has  all  been 
reduced  to  definite  reactions  under  the  influence  of 
specific  stimuli,  and  can  be  carried  out  at  will  in 
the  laboratory.  If  a  certain  species  of  hydroid,  for 
example,  be  suspended  horizontally  in  the  water  so 
that  the  branches  are  directed  downward  the  polyps 
on  these  branches  disappear  and  the  branches  grad- 
ually transform  themselves  into  roots.  Being 
placed,  in  other  words,  in  the  environment  natural 
to  roots  they  develop  into  roots,  and  so  one  organ 
can  literally  be  transformed  into  another  by  chang- 
ing the  environmental  conditions. 

Even  the  realm  of  morphology  which  deals  omy 
with  forms  has  been  invaded  and  each  form  is  now 
believed  to  be  a  "diagram  of  forces,"4  a  sort  of 
final  compromise  among  all  the  different  forces 
within  and  without  which  tend  to  alter  its  form. 
Plateau5  showed  that  the  minute  sticky  drops  on 
a  spider's  web,  their  form  and  size,  their  distance 
apart  and  the  presence  of  tiny  intermediate  drops 
were  in  their  every  detail  explicable  by  the  law  of 
surface  tension  and  that  the  spider  had  absolutely 
nothing  to  do  with  these  results. 

And  thus  does  science  deal  with  matters  that  have 

a  Loeb :  loc.  cit.  XXXI,  On  the  Transformation  and  Regeneration 
of  Organs. 

4  Thompson,  D'Arcy  Wentworth,  Magnalia  Naturae ;  or  the 
Greater  Problems  of  Biology.  Science,  Oct.  6,  1911. 

s  Cited  by  Thompson,  loc.  cit. 


20  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

been  considered  accidental,  inexplicable,  fortuitous, 
chance  occurrences.  That  there  will  always  remain 
a  great  unknown  with  which  the  philosopher  may 
deal,  does  not  alter  the  necessities  of  the  scientific 
method  which  must  proceed  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown  according  to  the  principle  laid  down  by 
Kant  that  we  should  exhaust  every  means  to  find  ex- 
planation in  the  light  of  those  properties  of  matter 
and  forms  of  energy  with  which  we  are  already  ac- 
quainted. 

If  we  will  consider  for  a  moment  the  pathway 
along  which  biological  phenomena  have  finally  found 
a  culmination  in  man  I  think  we  may  admit,  for 
purposes  of  description,  that  the  earliest  types  of 
reactions  which  living  beings  show  were  largely 
physical,  that  is,  such  reactions  for  example  as  de- 
pend upon  the  amount  of  moisture  in  the  environ- 
ment, upon  the  temperature,  upon  expansion  and 
contraction,  and  the  like,  that,  however,  very  early, 
and  perhaps  from  the  first  they  assume  in  addition 
a  chemical  or  a  physico-chemical  character;  the 
problems  of  nutrition,  of  metabolism,  are  found  in 
the  unicellular  organisms  and  are  confessedly  of  a 
chemical  and  a  physico-chemical  nature.  The  nerv- 
ous system  comes  into  existence  relatively  low  down 
in  the  animal  scale,  and  when  we  find  it  we  find  a 
very  simple  series  of  ganglia  and  nervous  cords, 
which,  in  their  earliest  beginnings,  have  largely  to 
do  with  problems  of  nutrition  directly  or  indirectly. 
Probably  these  earliest  forms  of  nervous  systems 
are  more  nearly  comparable  with  what  we  call  in 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  21 

the  human  being  the  sympathetic,  or  the  vegetative 
nervous  system.  It  is  only  relatively  late  in  ani- 
mal development  that  we  find  the  central  nervous 
system,  and  last  of  all  that  we  find  evidences  of 
anything  to  which  we  can  properly  give  the  name 
of  psyche. 

From  this  evolutional  point  of  view  we  may  con- 
sider, for  descriptive  purposes  only,  the  various 
functions  as  we  see  them  exhibited  in  man.  The 
physical  reactions  are  such  as  are  involved  in  the 
maintenance  of  the  erect  posture,  the  relation  of 
the  various  curves  in  the  spinal  column,  the  adapta- 
tion of  the  joint  surfaces  to  one  another,  and  numer- 
ous other  things :  the  chemical  and  physico-chemical 
reactions  are  still  largely  taken  up  with  matters  of 
growth,  of  nutrition,  and  of  metabolism:  the  cen- 
tral nervous  system  functions  occupy  a  still  higher 
place  and  serve  for  bringing  about  larger  co-ordina- 
tions between  the  various  parts  of  the  body;  while 
the  psyche  manifests  itself  in  all  mental  functions 
at  a  level  hardly  approached  even  by  any  of  the 
lower  animals. 

If  we  will  take  the  broadest  concept  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  individual  to  his  environment  and  of  the 
functions  of  these  various  levels,  if  I  may  so  call 
them,  we  will  see  at  once  that  the  individual  is  al- 
ways endeavouring — to  use  a  teleological  term — to 
bring  about  an  adjustment  between  himself  and  his 
surroundings,  and  that  in  order  to  do  this  is  always 
in  a  position  where  it  is  advantageous  to  be  able 
to  concentrate  all  efforts  in  a  given  direction  and 


22  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

make  everything  subservient  to  that  particular  end. 
The  first  function  is  the  function  of  adjustment  or 
adaptation.  The  second  function  is  the  function  of 
integration,  and  at  each  level  we  find  the  functions 
of  the  organism  subserving  both  of  these  ends.  As 
we  proceed  from  the  physical  through  the  various 
nervous  levels  to  the  psychological  level  we  find  that 
each  series  of  functions,  as  they  increase  in  com- 
plexity, also  serve  to  more  thoroughly  and  more 
efficiently  integrate  the  individual  and  therefore 
make  it  possible  for  him  to  bring  all  of  his  energies 
together  and  concentrate  them  upon  a  specific  goal. 
At  the  same  time  this  function  of  integration  is  the 
very  necessary  pre-condition  to  efficiency  of  adjust- 
ment to  the  environment.  Let  me  illustrate. 

If  I  were  to  specify  the  type  of  instrument  which 
man  uses  at  the  various  levels  to  bring  about  these 
two  ends,  namely  adjustment  and  integration,  I 
should  specify  first,  at  the  physical  level,  the  lever. 
This  is  exemplified  by  the  type  of  action  between 
muscles  and  bones  which  serves  the  purpose  of  in- 
tegrating man's  frame-work  so  that  he  may  direct 
his  exertions  toward  any  particular  end  he  wishes 
and  thereby  effect  to  that  extent  an  adjustment  with 
his  surroundings.  At  the  next  level,  the  physico- 
chemical,  the  hormone  is  the  type  of  instrument 
which  is  used  to  effect  these  two  purposes.  The 
chemical  regulation  of  metabolism  is  a  means 
whereby  the  body  is  related  to  itself  in  its  different 
parts  so  that  it  grows  and  develops  as  a  whole,  each 
portion  receiving  and  utilising  only  its  proper 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  23 

amount  and  character  of  nutriment  to  serve  the  spe- 
cific purpose  of  the  development  of  that  part  in  so 
far  as  it  may  be  useful  to  the  whole  organism.  In- 
tegration is  thus  served,  the  organism  as  a  whole  is 
raised  by  this  integration  to  a  higher  level  of  effi- 
ciency and  thereby  adjustment  with  the  environ- 
ment to  a  greater  nicety  is  rendered  possible.  This 
hormone  regulation  which  is  effected  through  the 
medium  of  the  endocrinous  glands  is  already  in  the 
higher  animals  under  the  control,  very  largely  at 
least,  of  the  vegetative  nervous  system,  and  so  even 
at  this  level  we  are  dealing  with  nervous  control. 
At  the  next  level,  the  level  of  the  central  nervous 
system,  the  reflex  is  the  type  of  instrument  which 
is  used.  The  reflex  is  brought  about  by  contact  be- 
tween the  individual  and  the  environment.  It  may 
be  simple,  it  may  be  compound,  it  may  be  condi- 
tioned or  unconditioned,  but  it  is  by  building  up 
series  of  intricately  interrelated  reflexes  that  the 
organism  comes  to  respond  accurately  to  certain 
aspects  of  its  environment.  It  is  needless  to  illus- 
trate further  how  this  process  of  compounding  of 
reflexes  serves  both  the  purposes  of  integration  and 
of  adjustment.  Still  higher  and  further  advanced 
in  the  course  of  evolution  the  type  of  instrument 
which  is  brought  into  play  to  effect  these  two  pur- 
poses is  the  idea.  The  idea  not  only  integrates  by 
keeping  before  the  individual  the  goal  which  he  is 
endeavouring  to  reach  and  thereby  serving  to  bring 
all  his  forces  to  bear  to  that  specific  end,  but  it  also 
reflects  the  environment  much  more  accurately  than 


24  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

can  the  stimulus  which  brings  about  the  reflex  and 
thereby  leads  to  a  much  finer  adjustment.  And  last 
of  all  we  have  arrived  at  that  region  which  Mr. 
Spencer  called  the  region  of  super-organic  evolution, 
the  region  of  social  psychology  in  which  conduct  gets 
its'  values  from  the  approval  or  the  disapproval  of 
the  community  of  which  the  individual  forms  a  part. 
The  type  of  instrument  which  is  used  at  this  level 
to  effect  the  double  purpose  of  integration  and  ad- 
justment is  the  social  custom.  Customs  serve  to 
integrate  society  rather  than  the  individual  per- 
haps by  binding  all  its  units  together  to  a  common 
end,  but  in  so  doing  they  serve  also  to  effect  a 
more  efficient  adjustment  of  the  individual  to  the 
requirements  of  the  community. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  in  the  process  of  evolu- 
tion there  is  an  orderly  progression  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  types  of  reaction  until  they  culminate 
in  the  reactions  at  the  psychological  level,  and  these 
latter  take  on  social  values. 

While  the  individual  may  properly  be  considered 
as  a  biological  unit,  still  the  brief  summary  which 
I  have  given  of  the  evolution  of  his  various  types 
of  reaction  shows  a  constant  interplay  between  the 
individual  and  his  environment  which  precludes  the 
possibility  of  considering  the  individual  as  apart 
from  the  environment,  and  this  impossibility  is  es- 
pecially to  be  borne  in  mind  when  the  individual  is 
considered  as  a  social  unit  and  his  reactions  are 
considered  from  the  standpoint  of  the  social  level. 

All  this  is  preliminary  and  necessary  to  the  under- 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  25 

standing  of  the  place  that  the  psychological  type  of 
reaction  occupies  in  the  general  scheme  of  the  indi- 
vidual's development  and  it  is  also  necessary  to  the 
understanding  of  how  by  a  process  of  evolution 
the  type  of  reaction  which  the  individual  manifests 
gets  its  values  reflected  from  the  social  community. 
Conduct  is  the  basis  upon  which  the  community 
judges  the  individual.  The  individual  may  think  as 
he  pleases  and  the  community  has  no  interest  in 
his  thoughts,  but  he  must  act  along  fairly  well  de- 
nned lines  if  he  expects  to  be  left  undisturbed.  Con- 
duct, therefore,  has  a  social  value  and  its  social 
value  is  based  upon  its  worth  to  the  community, 
that  is,  its  social  efficiency. 

The  main  emphasis  of  this  argument  should  be 
placed  upon  the  fact  that  socially  efficient  conduct 
is  an  end  result,  depending,  not  simply  upon  psycho- 
logical integrity  but  back  of  that  upon  integrity  at 
all  reacting  levels.  Each  level  is  dependent  upon 
the  one  beneath,  its  historical  antecedent.  Conduct 
is  the  end  result  of  the  whole  complex  of  mechan- 
isms and  resulting  compromises  and  its  efficiency  is 
a  function  of  their  integrity. 

For  purposes  of  illustrating  this  process  of  inte- 
gration and  adaptation  let  us  take  the  example  of 
the  person  who  is  learning  to  play  the  piano  and 
see  what  happens.  On  the  sheet  of  music  there  are 
a  mass  of  signs  that  stand  for  notes  of  different 
pitch  and  duration,  combinations  of  such  signs  in- 
dicating chords,  other  signs  indicating  pauses,  and 
various  directions  as  to  rapidity  or  slowness,  ex- 


26  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

pression,  loudness,  repetition  of  certain  portions, 
etc.  The  piano  keyboard  is  composed  of  black  and 
white  keys  arranged  in  certain  definite  relations  to 
each  other.  The  notes  on  the  sheet  of  music  each 
refer  to  a  certain  one  of  these  keys  and  no  other  and 
in  order  to  know  exactly  to  which  it  refers  the  player 
must  be  able  to  "read  music." 

All  this  mass  of  impressions  presented  to  the 
learner  are  just  so  many  separate  perceptions, 
jumbled  together,  without  arrangement  and  with- 
out meaning.  As  the  days  pass  by,  however,  there 
begins  to  emerge  from  this  mass  a  perception  of 
relationship  among  its  several  parts,  it  begins  to 
become  comprehensible,  it  takes  on  meaning.  The 
relation  between  the  printed  notes  and  the  piano 
keys  becomes  definite,  the  keys  are  struck  and  sounds 
that  are  pleasant  are  produced  if  the  correct  rela- 
tionship has  been  maintained  in  the  striking,  sounds 
of  an  unpleasant  quality  if  a  mistake  has  been  made. 
The  mass  of  perceptions  are  beginning  to  arrange 
themselves  in  an  orderly  way.  They  are  being  con- 
stellated. 

Now  this  process  continues  and  the  orderly  ar- 
rangement of  mental  states  as  related  to  these  out- 
side conditions  becomes  more  and  more  extensive  and 
more  and  more  perfect.  There  is  taking  place  an 
adjustment  of  the  individual  to  the  environment,  a 
building  up  of  a  certain  relationship  between  the 
outside  conditions — the  sheet  of  music  and  the  piano 
keyboard — and  the  individual,  and  this  relationship 
becomes  progressively  more  and  more  exact  and 


THE  GENETIC  APPKOACH  27 

more  and  more  efficient.  As  the  adjustment  becomes 
more  perfect  disharmonies  with  their  resulting  pain- 
ful mental  states  are  less  frequent — the  harmony 
and  efficiency  of  the  adjustment  is  improved  with 
practice. 

It  will  be  helpful  at  this  point  to  point  out  briefly 
some  of  the  differences  in  the  state  of  consciousness 
of  the  beginner  on  the  piano  and  of  the  finished 
product,  the  accomplished  performer. 

At  first  while  learning,  each  movement  is  painfully 
conscious,  the  fingers  have  to  be  watched,  each  note 
separately  observed,  and  the  required  movements 
are  slowly  and  awkwardly  executed.  When  profi- 
ciency has  been  acquired  the  same  results  are  ac- 
complished far  better,  with  much  less  effort,  and 
with  so  little  attention  that  an  occasional  glance 
over  the  shoulder  and  even  entering  into  the  con- 
versation of  those  about  does  not  seem  to  interfere. 
At  first  a  note  has  to  be  carefully  looked  at  in  order 
to  recognise  it,  then  the  signature,  the  tempo,  the 
various  directions,  and  its  relation  to  other  notes 
in  the  other  clef  have  all  to  be  separately  observed 
before  it  can  be  finally  sought  out  on  the  piano  and 
struck  in  its  proper  time  and  place.  Later  all  these 
things  are  appreciated  at  a  glance  and  the  repro- 
duction is  instantaneous.  In  this  way  hundreds  of 
notes  in  all  sorts  of  relations  and  combinations  may 
be  struck  in  a  single  minute  as  the  eye  skims  rap- 
idly across  the  page  of  music,  and  the  translation 
from  the  printed  signs  to  the  appropriate  sounds  is 
relatively  immediate. 


28  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

It  will  be  seen  that  a  relationship  has  been  estab- 
lished with  outside  conditions  that  is  very  definite, 
the  adaptation  of  the  individual  to  the  environment 
is  highly  efficient  and  takes  place  in  a  way  so  nearly 
absolutely  fixed  that  it  is  practically  predictable. 
There  has  been  established  by  a  slow  process  of 
growth  a  complex  of  mechanisms,  mechanisms  that 
are  automatic  or  quasi-automatic  in  character  so 
that  whenever  the  appropriate  stimulus  is  applied 
the  whole  machinery  goes  off  in  a  perfectly  well  de- 
fined way  in  all  its  various  parts.  This  is  the 
adaptive  side  of  the  process  of  learning. 

In  addition  to  the  phenomena  described  there  is 
another  series  of  phenomena  that  equally  deserves 
notice.  The  beginner  in  endeavouring  to  correlate 
his  muscular  movements  to  correspond  with  the  mu- 
sical score  is,  we  say,  very  awkward.  He  not  only 
makes  many  mistakes,  his  movements  are  not  ac- 
curately adjusted  to  the  specific  ends,  but  he  makes 
many  unnecessary  movements.  His  whole  body  is 
more  or  less  involved  in  the  effort.  He  twists  and 
turns  in  his  seat,  bends  forward  to  look  more  keenly 
at  the  notes,  screws  his.  head  to  one  side  and  per- 
haps sticks  out  his  tongue  or  makes  strained  grim- 
aces as  he  attempts  difficult  adjustments  with  his 
fingers  that  require  him  to  strike  several  notes  at 
once,  using  both  hands  at  the  same  time.  These 
are  the  result  of  the  diffuse  discharges  of  energy 
that  we  see  in  all  learning  processes  and  especially 
in  the  natural  development  of  the  child  and  are  the 
expression,  on  the  neurological  side,  of  the  opening 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  29 

up  of  new  channels,  the  preliminary  phenomena  to 
Jhe  selection  of  a  final  common  pathway  along  which 
the  nervous  energy  gets  its  most  efficient  outlet. 
The  eye  and  the  hand  have,  so  to  speak,  to  learn 
to  operate  harmoniously  together  and  to  do  this 
must  open  up  new  paths  of  association.  When  the 
process  of  learning  has  been  completed  the  various 
parts  of  the  body  involved  have  come  to  act  har- 
moniously together  for  the  accomplishment  of  the 
common  end  with  the  elimination  of  all  unnecessary 
movements.  This  is  the  process  of  integration. 

In  this  description  it  will  be  recognised  that  we 
are  describing  a  sort  of  activity  that  reminds  us  of 
the  reflex.  The  reflex,  however,  is  still  more  rigidly 
defined  in  its  possibilities,  its  response  is,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes,  absolutely  the  same  always, 
whenever  a  stimulus  is  applied.  Then,  too,  it  is  no 
longer  under  the  control  of  the  individual  but  oc- 
curs whether  or  no.  The  piano  playing  activities 
on  the  other  hand  are  always  under  the  control  of 
the  subject.  He  may  play  or  not,  as  he  sees  fit, 
and  he  may  vary  the  production  from  the  written 
direction  to  suit  his  own  whim.  The  various  ac- 
tivities of  his  fingers  in  seeking  the  notes  are,  how- 
ever, not  changed  in  either  instance,  they  go  on  in 
their  accustomed  way  in  both  cases. 

This  type  of  activity  is  called  automatic,  though 
it  will  be  seen  from  the  description  that  it  is  really 
a  complex  product  containing,  it  is  true,  many  au- 
tomatic components,  but  containing  also  many  that 
have  not  reached  that  degree  of  definiteness  of  re- 


30  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sponse — activities  that  are  still  in  the  proving  ground 
of  automatisms. 

One  of  the  changes  then  that  has  been  undergone 
in  the  process  of  learning  is  a  change  toward  an 
automatic  character  of  the  reaction.  With  continu- 
ous practice  the  activities  become  more  and  more 
automatic. 

Another  change,  which  it  is  important  for  us  to 
note,  is  a  change  in  the  degree  of  awareness  that  ac- 
companies these  activities.  The  change  toward 
greater  automatism  implies  this  change.  From  a 
condition  of  very  acute  awareness  of  every  minute 
adjustment  in  the  beginning  there  is  reached  a  con- 
dition of  almost  absent  awareness  when  a  high 
grade  of  efficiency  has  been  reached.  At  least  those 
portions  of  the  adjustment  that  have  become  truly 
automatisms  have  become  activities  of  the  unaware 
region  of  consciousness. 

To  put  the  matter  a  little  differently,  when  the 
same  or  similar  conditions  in  the  environment  are 
repeatedly  presented  to  the  organism  so  that  it  is 
called  upon  to  react  in  a  similar  or  almost  identical 
way  each  time,  there  tends  to  be  organised  a  mechan- 
ism of  reaction  which  becomes  more  and  more  auto- 
matic and  is  accompanied  by  a  state  of  mind  of  less 
and  less  awareness.  Or  to  put  the  obverse.  Con- 
sciousness, or  at  least  clear  conscious  awareness,  ap- 
pears only  upon  attempts  at  adjustment  to  condi- 
tions that  are  unusual,  at  "moments  of  conflict,"  on 
those  occasions  the  like  of  which  have  not  previously 
occurred  in  the  experience  of  the  individual  and  in 


THE  GENETIC  APPKOACH  31 

relation  to  which,  therefore,  there  has  been  no  pos- 
sibility of  organising  reactive  mechanisms.  To  put 
it  again  in  a  little  different  form.  Clear  conscious- 
ness does  not  accompany  reaction  to  stimuli  when 
the  issue  in  conduct  can  only  occur  in  a  single  di- 
rection, when  there  are  no  alternatives.  Conscious- 
ness is  an  expression,  as  it  were,  of  conflict.  It 
arises  in  response  to  stimuli  under  conditions  that 
make  it  possible  to  react  by  a  choice  of  a  line  of  con- 
duct in  any  one  of  many  directions. 

This  state  of  affairs  calls  to  mind  an  analogy. 
Consciousness  arises  only  under  conditions  of  con- 
flict, conditions  of  great  complexity,  of  increased 
resistance  as  compared  with  the  facile  reaction  along 
the  definite  lines  of  a  reflex  arc.  When  in  the  path 
of  an  electric  current,  a  complex  network  of  wiring 
is  introduced  that  raises  the  resistance  to  the  pas- 
sage of  the  current,  we  find  that  accompanying  its 
passage  there  goes  along  a  marked  rise  of  tempera- 
ture. As  heat  goes  along  with  increase  in  resist- 
ance in  an  electric  circuit  so  consciousness  goes 
along  with  increase  in  resistance  in  a  mental  circuit. 
Herrick6  has  said  "the  various  degrees  or  grades 
of  consciousness  are  expressions  of  successively 
higher  forms  of  the  co-ordination  of  forces." 

We  must  think  then  of  full,  clear  consciousness  as 
only  accompanying  those  mental  states  of  adjust- 
ment to  new  and  unusual  conditions :  conditions  per- 

«C.  L.  Herrick:  The  Metaphysics  of  a  Naturalist  cited  by  Pro- 
fessor Mary  Whiton  Calkins  in  General  Standpoints:  Mind  and 
Body.  The  Psychological  Bulletin,  January  15,  1911. 


32  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

mitting  of  various  reactions  and  involving  there- 
fore selective  judgment,  critique,  choice — in  short, 
reason;  and  in  proportion  to  the  frequency  of  the 
repetition  of  the  same  adjustment  the  mental  state 
accompanying  such  repetition  tends  to  sink  out  of 
the  field  of  clear  consciousness.  If  we  will  con- 
sider the  infinitude  of  adjustments  the  individual 
has  to  make  to  his  environment  we  will  see  that  this 
is  a  conservative  process.  As  soon  as  a  given  ad- 
justment is  well  formed  it  is  pushed  aside  and  the 
field  of  clear  consciousness  left  free  for  new  prob- 
lems. 

The  same  sort  of  process  is  responsible  for  phe- 
nomena in  the  race  consciousness.  The  word  "chan- 
delier" originally  was  applied  to  a  holder  for  a 
candle.  The  application  continued  for  a  long  time, 
was  frequently  repeated,  and  was  organised,  there- 
fore, into  a  stably  reacting  mechanism.  The  change 
in  the  source  of  light  to  gas  failed  absolutely  to 
change  the  reaction  and  it  is  only  lately,  now  that 
gas  has  long  since  been  replaced  by  electricity  that 
we  occasionally  hear  the  word  "electrolier." 
Stated  in  this  way  the  method  of  reaction  will  be 
seen  to  have  a  biological  significance  and  not  merely 
an  individual  or  even  a  human  importance. 

All  of  these  considerations  go  to  demonstrate  that 
the  field  of  full  consciousness  and  rational  self-con- 
trol is  a  very  limited  one,  but  that  on  the  contrary 
the  great  majority  of  our  mental  states,  our  desires, 
inclinations,  and  actions  are  conditioned  by  mechan- 
isms of  which  we  are  more  or  less  unaware.  It  is 


THE  GENETIC  APPROACH  33 

worth  while  in  passing  to  call  attention  to  the  prin- 
ciple that  in  proportion  as  the  control  of  conduct 
is  outside  of  the  region  of  clear  consciousness  it  is 
apt  to  go  astray  under  conditions  even  slightly  dif- 
ferent from  those  that  were  associated  with  the 
formation  of  the  reaction — acting  in  accordance 
with  the  established  mechanism  even  though  con- 
ditions have  changed,  as  with  the  example  of  the 
word  " chandelier"  just  cited. 

The  final  result  of  this  way  of  thinking  of  con- 
sciousness is  that  we  find  ourselves  considering  it  in 
terms  of  energy,  we  are  thinking  of  it  as  dynamic 
rather  than  as  static,  we  are  no  longer  justified  in 
speaking  of  mind  as  if  it  were  a  something  resident 
somewhere,  in  the  brain  for  example.  We  have  had 
to  face  the  same  situation  in  the  matter  of  so-called 
"disease  entities"  and  "disease  processes"  which 
are  only  somewhat  more  subtle  forms  of  expression 
for  the  concrete  devils  of  the  middle  ages  that  were 
responsible  for  sickness  by  taking  up  a  residence  in 
the  patient's  body.  Just  as  in  the  middle  ages  the 
disease  was  thought  of  as  the  devil  which  invaded 
the  patient's  body  so  diseases  now  are  thought  of 
as  entities  which  come  out  of  the  nowhere,  settle 
down  upon  the  patient  and  make  him  ill  by  setting 
up  a  disease  process.  Now  we  have  learned  that 
what  we  call  disease  is  the  series  of  phenomena 
which  come  into  existence  when  the  body  finds  itself 
in  conflict  with  some  tendency  which  makes  for  its 
disintegration  or  destruction  and  as  a  matter  of 
fact  the  so-called  symptoms  are  evidences  of  the  self- 


34  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

conserving  activities  called  forth  by  the  conflict. 
So  we  must  learn  to  think  of  consciousness,  not  as 
a  concrete  thing  in  some  way  different  from  but 
united  with  the  body,  but  as  that  series  of  phenom- 
ena which  come  into  existence  at  certain  levels  of 
the  processes  of  integration  and  adjustment. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  FOBE-CONSCIOUS  AND  THE  UNCONSCIOUS 

The  unconscious  as  a  part  of  consciousness  may 
be  a  misnomer.  Unconscious  ideas  may  involve  a 
contradiction  in  terms ; 1  and  yet  the  term  uncon- 
scious is  fully  justifiable  if  we  only  start  out  by  un- 
derstanding that  it  is  a  concept  only  and  we  do  not 
try  to  think  of  it  as  occupying,  so  to  speak,  any 
particular  spatial  relationship  in  consciousness, 
such,  for  example,  as  is  implied  by  the  term  sub- 
conscious. The  unconscious  is  an  hypothesis  and 
as  such  it  has  a  right  to  exist  only  if  it  explains  the 
facts. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  discontinuity  of  con- 
sciousness. I  may  say,  for  instance,  in  addressing 
a  number  of  persons,  that  I  know  of  something  that 
they  all  know,  but  that  at  that  particular  moment 
not  one  of  them  know  that  they  know  it  and  that 
they  will  at  once  recognise  the  truth  of  my  state- 
ment the  moment  I  tell  them  what  it  4s.  The  mul- 
tiplication table!  Of  course  they  knew  it,  but  a 

1  "Such  notions  as  'solid  solutions,'  'liquid  crystals,'  invisible 
'light,'  divisible  'atoms,'  'unconscious'  mental  life,  seem  mere  fool- 
ishness until  we  realise  that  the  work  of  science  is  not  to  avoid 
verbal  contradiction,  but  to  frame  conceptions  by  which  we  can 
control  the  facts."  jF.  C.  S.  Schiller,  "Studies  in  Humanism.") 

35 


36  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

moment  before  nothing  was  further  from  their  sev- 
eral minds.  Where  was  it  though?  Where  did  it 
come  from  at  the  moment  my  words  brought  it 
flashing  into  their  consciousness!  Where  are  our 
ideas  during  dreamless  sleep!  During  anaesthesia? 
During  periods  of  unconsciousness  from  fainting? 
No  phenomenon  of  mental  life  is  more  striking 
than  these  temporary  periods  when  mental  life  seems 
actually  to  cease  to  exist.  Consciousness  lapses  for 
a  period,  during  a  faint,  for  example,  and  then 
makes  its  appearance  again  without  having  seemed 
to  change  in  the  least  as  a  result.  Such  experiences 
emphasise  the  discontinuity  of  consciousness  and 
demonstrate  that  continuity  of  consciousness  is  not 
a  requisite  of  mental  integrity.  Then  there  are 
certain  conditions,  a  good  example  is  the  state  of 
mind  during  the  carrying  out  of  a  post-hypnotic 
suggestion,  in  which,  for  the  time  being,  certain  ideas 
that  were  previously  not  present  to  consciousness 
become  suddenly  active.  The  subject  carries  out 
the  suggestion  without  any  knowledge  of  the  rea- 
sons therefor.  In  the  hypnotic  state,  however,  the 
suggestions  of  the  operator  are  clearly  in  mind. 
Here  there  is  no  lapse  of  consciousness  but  two 
distinct  states  in  one  of  which  ideas  are  absent  that 
are  present  in  the  other,  a  condition  seen  much  more 
elaborately  carried  out  in  states  of  multiple  per- 
sonality with  the  development  of  ' i  secondary  states ' ' 
already  referred  to  in  Chapter  I.  Such  conditions 
as  these  have  given  rise  to  such  terms  as  "  dissocia- 
tion," "splitting,"  " sub-conscious " — purely  de- 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  37 

scriptive  terms  for  expressing  the  phenomena  as  ob- 
served. 

A  great  many  of  our  ideas,  which  for  one  reason 
or  another,  are  out  of  mind  for  the  time  being  can 
nevertheless  be  brought  into  consciousness,  so  to 
speak,  at  call.  Like  the  multiplication  table  they 
are  always  ready  at  hand  when  needed.  This  group 
of  ideas  have  the  characteristic  that  they  are  all  of 
the  same  value  for  consciousness.  One  group  might 
as  well  be  conscious  as  the  other  and  whether  this 
or  that  group  is  conscious  depends  upon  their  in- 
tensity, the  focus  of  attention,  etc.  This  is  the  state 
of  affairs  in  the  "secondary  states"  which  always 
lie  relatively  near  the  surface,  that  is,  can  with 
comparative  ease  be  made  conscious.  Those  ideas 
which  are  out  of  the  focus  of  attention,  but  which 
are  capable  of  voluntary  recall  are  said  to  be  fore- 
conscious,  or  in  the  fore-consciousness.  It  is,  how- 
ever, as  we  shall  see,  very  different  with  the  uncon- 
scious for  here  we  cease  to  be  upon  purely  descrip- 
tive ground. 

The  term  unconscious  then  is  no  longer  a  purely 
descriptive  term,  but  it  is  a  term  applied  to  an 
hypothesis  2  pure  and  simple.  The  unconscious  is 
reserved  to  explain,  not  to  describe,  a  different  class 
of  phenomena.  If  we  observe  a  man  violently  shak- 

2  Bernard  Hart :  The  Conception  of  the  Subconscious.  Jour,  of 
Ab.  Psych.,  Feb.-March,  1910. 

Sigmund  Freud:  Einige  Bemerkungen  uber  den  Begriff  des  Un- 
bewussten  in  der  Psychoanalyse.  Int.  Zeit.  f.  Arztliche  Psycho- 
analyse, Jahr.  I,  Heft  2. 


38  CHAEACTER  FORMATION 

ing  his  head  in  the  midst  of  an  animated  discussion 
of  which  we  can  not  hear  the  words  we  are  justi- 
fied in  assuming  that  the  meaning  of  the  head  shake 
is  a  negation — an  assumption  that  may  or  may  not 
be  borne  out  by  the  facts  of  a  subsequent  inquiry. 
Such  an  assumption  is  an  hypothesis  which  must 
stand  or  fall,  like  the  hypothesis  of  the  unconscious, 
solely  upon  the  evidence — the  possibility  of  resum- 
ing the  facts  under  it.  If  upon  inquiry  we  learn 
that  the  head  shake  really  did  mean  a  negation,  if 
the  subject  is  able  to  tell  us  that,  then  our  assump- 
tion is  proved  to  be  correct.  If,  however,  we  ob- 
serve a  person  with  a  certain  habit,  a  habit  of  hand- 
washing,  we  have  a  right  to  guess  in  the  same  way 
at  its  meaning.  Upon  inquiry,  however,  if  we  find 
that  that  person  can  give  absolutely  no  reason  for 
the  action,  or  a  reason  that  is  manifestly  inadequate, 
we  have  to  withhold  our  judgment  as  to  its  mean- 
ing. Now  if  we  subject  this  person  to  psychoanaly- 
sis and  find  that  no  matter  from  what  angle  we  ap- 
proach this  action  we  invariably  find  that  we  can 
only  reach  an  adequate  explanation  of  it  upon  the 
assumption  that  by  the  hand-washing  is  symbolised 
a  purification  from  sin,  then  we  have  a  right  to  as- 
sume that  there  exists  in  the  mind  of  that  person  a 
feeling  of  sin  connected  with  the  hands  from  which 
he  tries  to  rid  himself  by  the  washing.  This  as- 
sumption of  a  feeling  of  sin  connected  with  the 
hands,  which  tends  to  find  expression  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  individual,  a  psychological  constellation 
to  which  the  term  complex  is  applied,  is  valid,  al- 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  39 

though  there  is  no  proof  of  the  actual  existence  in 
the  mind  at  the  time  of  the  washing  of  any  such 
motivating  ideas,  because  by  such  an  assumption, 
and  only  by  such  an  assumption,  can  the  conduct  be 
adequately  explained  and  so  understood. 

The  unconscious  therefore  means  nothing  as  to 
location,  nothing  as  to  the  character  of  relation  to 
the  conscious  except  that  it  implies  that  the  ideas 
are  neither  conscious  nor  fore-conscious.  It  is  only 
an  attempt  to  explain  psychological  facts  in  psycho- 
logical terms.  The  patient's  conduct  is  explainable 
on  the  assumption  that  such  a  complex  exists,  not 
otherwise. 

We  come  thus  to  the  important  conclusion  that 
mental  life,  the  mind,  is  not  equivalent  and  co-equal 
with  consciousness.  That,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
motivating  causes  of  conduct  often  lie  outside  of 
consciousness  and,  as  we  shall  see,  that  conscious- 
ness is  not  the  greater  but  only  the  lesser  expression 
of  the  psyche.  Consciousness  only  includes  that  of 
which  we  are  aware,  while  outside  of  this  somewhat 
restricted  region  there  lies,  as  we  have  seen,  a  much 
wider  area  in  which  lie  the  deeper  motives  for  con- 
duct and  which  not  only  operates  to  control  conduct, 
but  also  dictates  what  may  and  what  may  not  be- 
come conscious.  Stanley  Hall3  has  very  forcibly 
put  the  matter  by  using  the  illustration  of  the  ice- 
berg. Only  one-tenth  of  the  iceberg  is  visible  above 
water;  nine-tenths  is  beneath  the  surface.  It  may 

a  Some  Aspects  of  the  Early  Sense  of  Self,  Am.  Jour.  Psychology, 
Vol.  IX,  No.  3. 


40 

appear  in  a  given  instance  that  the  iceberg  is  being 
carried  along  by  the  prevailing  winds  and  surface 
currents,  but  if  we  keep  our  eyes  open  we  will  sooner 
or  later  see  a  berg  going  in  the  face  of  the  wind  and 
so  apparently  putting  at  naught  all  the  laws  of 
aerodynamics.  We  can  understand  this  only  when 
we  come  to  realise  that  much  the  greater  portion  of 
the  berg  is  beneath  the  surface  and  that  it  is  moving 
in  response  to  invisible  forces  addressed  against 
this  submerged  portion. 

We  can  only  come  to  an  understanding  of  this 
state  of  affairs  when  we  understand  the  meaning  and 
the  placement  of  consciousness  in  organic  evolution. 

Consciousness,  as  we  have  seen  in  Chapter  II,  only 
arises  as  a  result  of  the  processes  of  integration  and 
adaptation  which  occur  at  the  psychological  level. 
This  process  of  adjustment  is  not  only  a  passive 
one,  so  to  speak,  but  also  an  active  one  in  that  the 
individual  reaches  out,  as  it  were,  and  tries  to  mould 
his  environment  to  suit  his  desires. 

Consciousness  only  arises  late  in  the  course  of 
evolution  and  only  in  connection  with  adjustments 
that  are  relatively  complex.  If  I  am  walking  along 
a  country  road-way  leading  through  the  woods  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  I  may  permit  myself  to 
indulge  in  deep  thought  quite  oblivious  of  my  imme- 
diate surroundings  while  I  go  on  walking  in  a  purely 
automatic  way.  Such  an  arrangement  works  very 
well  until  some  new  element  is  introduced  into  the 
situation,  some  new  adjustment  is  demanded.  Sup- 
pose now  that  I  come  to  a  point  where  the  road  sepa- 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  41 

rates  into  two  roads  going  in  quite  different  direc- 
tions. I  at  once  find  that  a  state  of  mental  ab- 
straction does  not  meet  the  requirements,  I  must 
rouse  myself  to  full  consciousness  and  choose  which 
road  I  am  to  follow. 

Consciousness  arises  when  new  adjustments  are 
demanded,  at  points  of  conflict,  moments  requiring 
choice.  Activities  can  only  sink  out  of  the  field  of 
awareness  by  becoming  automatic,  but  automatic  ac- 
tivities are,  by  the  same  token,  fixed, — not  fluid,  not 
adjustable  to  changing  conditions.  Therefore  when 
they  no  longer  serve  under  given  conditions,  when 
a  new  adjustment  is  required,  the  whole  matter  has 
to  be  dragged  up  into  the  field  of  awareness,  made 
conscious,  in  order  that  an  effective  reaction  may 
result.4 

Thus  far,  however,  we  have  only  been  dealing,  in 

*  "Consciousness  is  the  light  that  plays  around  the  zone  of  pos- 
sible actions  or  potential  activity  which  surrounds  the  action  really 
performed  by  the  living  being.  It  signifies  hesitation  or  choice. 
Where  many  equally  possible  actions  are  indicated  without  there 
being  any  real  action  (as  in  a  deliberation  that  has  not  come  to 
an  end),  consciousness  is  intense.  When  the  action  performed  is 
the  only  action  possible  (as  in  activity  of  the  somnambulistic  or 
more  generally  automatic  kind),  consciousness  is  reduced  to  noth- 
ing." (Bergson:  "Creative  Evolution,"  p.  144.) 

"Throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  animal  kingdom,  we  have 
said,  consciousness  seems  proportionate  to  the  living  being's  power 
of  choice.  It  lights  up  the  zone  of  potentialities  that  surround  the 
act.  It  fills  the  interval  between  what  is  done  and  what  might 
be  done.  Looked  at  from  without,  we  may  regard  it  as  a  simple 
aid  to  action,  a  light  that  action  kindles,  a  momentary  spark  fly- 
ing up  from  the  friction  of  real  action  against  possible  actions." 
(Ibid.,  p.  179.) 


42  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  examples  given,  with  the  exception  of  the  hand- 
washing  example,  with  ideas  that  might  as  well  have 
been  conscious.  They  were  unconscious  only  in  the 
sense  that  they  were  not  conscious,  i.e.,  they  were  out 
of  the  focus  of  attention.  They  might  as  well  have 
been  conscious,  and  so  were  what  is  known  as  fore- 
conscious  ideas.  The  term  unconscious  is  used  in 
a  different  sense:  an  interpretive  rather  than  a  de- 
scriptive sense,  and  applies  to  states  of  mind  that 
are  not  only  not-conscious,  but  instead  of  being 
readily  accessible  to  consciousness  are,  as  we  shall 
see  later,  actively  kept  out  of  consciousness  by  the 
utilisation  of  a  considerable  amount  of  energy. 
This  is  the  process  known  technically  as  repression 
and  involves  the  concept  of  conflict.5 

Conflict  is  the  very  root  and  source  of  life.  With- 
out conflict  we  could  never  have  risen  further  in 
our  nervous  organisation  than  a  series  of  reflex  arcs 
even  if  we  could  have  lived  at  all.  The  great  crea- 
tive energy,  call  it  what  we  will,  the  libido  as  it  has 
been  called,  or  horme  as  Jung  now  prefers  to  call 
it,  the  poussee  vitale,  or  elan  vital  of  Mr.  Bergson, 
is  ever  striving  to  free  itself  from  its  limitations, 
to  go  onward  and  upward,  to  create,  and  in  order 
to  do  this  it  must  overcome  resistances,  tear  loose 
from  drag  backs,  emancipate  itself  from  the  inertia 
of  lower  callings.  The  energy  which  succeeds  is 
sublimated,  refined,  spiritualised.  Out  of  the  con- 
flict, if  the  battle  is  won,  come  new  adjustments  on 

s  The  concepts  of  repression  and  conflict  will  be  dealt  with  in 
the  next  chapter. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  43 

a  higher  plane ;  if  the  battle  is  lost  there  comes  fail- 
ure— the  sinking  to  a  lower  plane  of  activity.  The 
conflict,  however,  does  not  cease.  Each  new  vantage 
won  becomes  but  the  battleground  for  new  prob- 
lems, and  like  the  conflict  that  Bergson  describes, 
force  always  trying  to  free  itself  from  its  material 
prison,  so  the  libido  is  ever  trying  to  break  away 
from  its  limitations. 

At  this  point  we  already  begin  to  see  somewhat 
of  the  meaning  of  the  unconscious,  the  most  valuable 
concept  of  recent  times  in  the  field  of  mental  medi- 
cine and  for  which  we  are  indebted  to  Freud.  It 
is  that  portion  of  the  psyche  which  has  been  built 
up  and  organised  in  the  process  of  development 
and  upon  which  reality  plays  in  the  form  of  new 
and  hitherto  unreacted  to  situations,  and  in  the 
friction  resulting  strikes  forth  the  spark  of  con- 
sciousness. 

The  advance  in  civilisation  has  been  associated 
with,  if  not  in  large  measure  dependent  upon  the 
accumulation  of  man  in  larger  groups.  The  primi- 
tive man,  living  only  in  very  small  groups,  could 
do  very  much  as  he  pleased.  His  activities  rarely 
crossed  the  interests  of  others,  and  so  he  was  per- 
sonally free  to  follow  absolutely  the  bent  of  his  in- 
clinations. In  response,  however,  to  his  ''herd  in- 
stinct"6 he  tended  always  to  come  into  closer  and 
closer  association  with  his  fellows  and  to  form 
larger  and  larger  alliances.  When  larger  groups 

6 Trotter:  Herd  Instinct  and  its  Bearings  on  the  Psychology  of 
Civilised  Man,  Soc.  Rev.,  1908. 


44  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

were  formed  then  it  became  correspondingly  less 
possible  for  him  to  do  always  just  what  he  wished 
without  consideration,  because  what  he  wished 
might  run  counter  to  the  wishes  of  some  one  else 
in  the  community.  The  larger  the  group,  the  more 
complex  its  organisation,  the  more  numerous  the 
points  at  which  the  several  component  units  touched 
each  other,  the  more  frequent  became  these  hin- 
drances to  free  individual  activity.  Difficulties 
of  adjustment  arose  frequently,  desire  must  needs 
constantly  be  curbed,  activities  have  more  and  more 
frequently  to  be  inhibited  altogether,  to  be  modified 
as  a  result  of  some  compromise,  or  finally  satisfac- 
tion has  to  be  indefinitely  postponed.  Men,  for  ex- 
ample, wish  for  money.  The  simplest  way  to  get 
it  would  be  to  just  take  it.  The  demands  of  a  civil- 
ised community,  however,  require  that  he  should 
first  go  through  that  complicated  process  of  earn- 
ing it  before  he  is  entitled  to  possess  it.  This  most 
men  do,  although  but  a  limited  acquaintance  with 
human  problems  is  sufficient  to  demonstrate  how 
frequently  the  unconscious  desire  to  travel  the 
shorter  path  comes  to  expression  in  the  "sharp 
practice"  of  many  business  men.  We  begin  to  see 
what  is  meant  by  the  statements  that  the  uncon- 
scious can  only  wish  in  the  sense  that  as  reality 
tends  to  force  new  adjustments  the  already  formed 
adjustments  by  offering  an  obstacle  to  this  change 
can  be  said  to  thus  express  a  wish  or  in  other  words 
a  tendency,  which  in  this  case  is  a  contrary  tend- 
ency to  that  of  reality.  We  can  also  understand 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  45 

what  is  meant  by  the  statement  that  civilisation  in- 
volves the  postponement  of  the  satisfaction  of  de- 
sire into  an  ever-receding  future.7 

These  are  general  statements:  let  us  be  a  little 
more  specific.  Man  has  always  tried  to  bring  about 
what  he  desired.  Primitive  man's  trials  were  sim- 
ple and  ineffectual.  He  used  the  methods  of  magic. 
No  matter  how  ineffectual  they  were,  however,  no 
matter  how  simple  and  childlike,  nevertheless  we 
see  in  these  methods  the  germs  of  our  present  day 
science.  Primitive  man  did  the  best  he  could,  his 
means  were  crude,  but  he  kept  on  trying — he  was 
on  the  right  path. 

The  Polynesians  had  a  crude  compass-form  in- 
strument 8  which  they  used  as  a  device  for  obtaining 
favourable  winds  during  canoe  voyages.  It  had 
several  holes  bored  in  it  which  opened  in  various 
directions.  They  obtained  a  favourable  wind  by 
stopping  up  all  the  holes  that  opened  in  the  direc- 
tions of  unfavourable  winds  and  only  leaving  open 
the  hole  which  opened  in  the  right  direction  for  the 
favourable  wind  to  blow  through.  Then  by  pro- 
nouncing the  proper  incantations  the  trick  was  done. 

We  can  not  fail  to  see,  however,  in  this  device, 
crude  as  it  was,  a  beginning  attempt  at  the  classifica- 
tion of  natural  phenomena — in  this  case  the  winds. 
The  very  making  of  such  an  instrument  implied  cer- 

7  Ultimately  heaven. 

s  Gill:  "Myths  and  Songs  from  the  South  Pacific";  cited  by 
Josiah  Royce:  Primitive  Ways  of  Thinking  with  Special  Refer- 
ence to  Negation  and  Classification,  The  Open  Court,  Oct.,  1913. 


46  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

tain  observations  and  classification  of  winds  with  a 
grouping  into  favourable  and  unfavourable. 

Such  an  attempt  at  the  control  of  natural  phe- 
nomena, involving  to  begin  with  their  classification, 
is  seen  on  a  large  and  relatively  more  comprehen- 
sive scale  in  the  social  phenomenon  of  totemism. 
The  tribe  is  divided  into  a  certain  number  of  totem 
clans  and  each  of  these  clans  includes  certain  nat- 
ural objects — the  so-called  sub-totems.  By  some 
of  the  Australian  tribes  this  division  of  natural  ob- 
jects among  the  several  clans  is  so  extended  as  to 
include  all  nature.  Thus  in  the  Mount  Gambier 
tribe  in  South  Australia9  the  fish  hawk  clan  in- 
cludes smoke,  honeysuckle,  trees,  etc.;  the  pelican 
clan  includes  dogs,  blackwood  trees,  fires,  frost,  etc. ; 
the  crow  clan  includes  rain,  thunder,  lightning,  win- 
ter, hail,  clouds,  etc.;  and  so  on  for  other  clans. 
Each  clan  has  parcelled  out  to  it,  so  to  speak,  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  nature  which  it  is  its  duty  to  look 
after10  and  control  for  the  benefit  of  the  tribe,  of 
course  by  the  methods  of  magic.  The  same  thing 
is  seen  in  the  use  of  split  totems.  Among  the  Ba- 
hima,  a  tribe  of  herdsmen  in  Africa,  such  split  or 
part  totems  refer  to  their  cattle.11  Thus  we  find 
such  totems  as  cow's  tongue,  cow's  entrails,  the 
small  stomach  of  cattle,  the  leg  of  an  ox,  a  sheep's 
head,  the  hearts  and  kidneys  of  animals,  an  unborn 

9  J.  G.  Frazer :     "Totemism  and  Exogamy,  A  Treatise  on  Certain 
Early  Forms  of  Superstition  and  Society,"  Vol.  I,  p.  79. 

10  Frazer:   "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.   135. 

11  Frazer:  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  II,  p.  536. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  47 

calf,  a  cow  with  a  black  stripe,  a  cow  with  a  white 
back,  speckled  cattle,  grey  cattle,  hornless  cattle, 
humped  cattle,  a  cow  born  feet  first,  cows  that  have 
drunk  salt  water,  and  cows  that  have  been  to  the 
bull. 

Very  early,  therefore,  man  begins  to  classify  nat- 
ural phenomena  in  his  own  crude,  simple  way.  This 
classification  comes  about  contemporaneously  with 
his  attempts  to  control  them,  to  get  from  nature 
what  he  wants.  It  is  a  long,  painful  series  of  trials 
and  errors  before  a  method  is  evolved  that  fits  into 
the  requirements  of  actuality. 

For  example — the  members  of  a  Kangaroo  12  clan 
endeavor  to  cause  the  multiplication  of  kangaroos 
by  opening  their  veins  and  allowing  their  blood  to 
flow  over  the  edge  of  a  rock  and  so  drive  from  it 
the  spirits  of  the  kangaroos  supposed  to  be  con- 
tained in  it  and  thus  ensure  the  multiplication  of 
this  animal.  The  head  man  of  the  Grass-seed  clan  13 
of  the  Kaitish  tribe  in  Central  Australia  in  his  en- 
deavor to  increase  the  amount  of  grass  seed,  among 
other  things,  takes  a  quantity  of  grass  seed  in  his 
mouth  and  blows  it  about  in  all  directions.  The 
first  of  these  practices  will  never  get  anywhere. 
Kangaroos  can  never  be  multiplied  in  that  way. 
The  second,  however,  offers  possibilities.  The 
Kaitish  tribe  are  densely  ignorant.  They  do  not 

izFrazer:  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  107,  and  Vol.  IV, 
p.  20. 

"Frazer:  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  pp.  214-218,  and 
Vol.  IV,  p.  20. 


48  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

even  know  that  a  seed  planted  in  the  ground  will 
sprout  and  grow.  Is  it  not  possible  that  their  magic 
rites  for  the  increase  of  grass  seed  might  not,  as  a 
result  of  the  sprouting  of  grass  wherever  the  head- 
man had  blown  the  seed,  gradually  lead  to  a  recog- 
nition of  this  simple  fact  from  which  the  earliest  be- 
ginnings of  agriculture  could  have  their  origin?  Is 
it  not  possible  that  the  method  of  trial  and  error 
generation  after  generation  might  result  in  the  dis- 
carding of  the  rites  of  the  kangaroo  men  and  the 
preservation  of  those  of  the  grass-seed  men? 

The  devious  ways  by  which  such  methods  often 
lead  to  practical  results  is  well  illustrated  by  cer- 
tain practices  of  the  Maori.14  They  have  a  food, 
the  kumara,  which  is  regarded  as  the  food  in  times 
of  peace  as  the  fern-root  is  regarded  as  the  food  in 
times  of  war.  As  the  kumara  is  sacred  to  peace 
when  an  enemy  is  about  to  attack  them  they  place 
kumara  on  the  road  that  the  enemy  must  pass  along. 
They  chant  certain  incantations  and  leave  it  there 
with  the  result  that  when  the  enemy  reaches  the 
spot  where  it  is  they  become  panic  stricken  and 
flee.  As  a  consequence  of  this  custom  war  parties 
take  pains  to  avoid  the  beaten  paths  of  travel  and 
take  round-about  and  out  of  the  way  courses  to 
reach  their  enemy :  a  method  of  procedure  justifiable 
on  quite  other  grounds  than  the  influence  of  the  ku- 
mara. Is  it  not  probable  that  the  net  result  of  such 

14  White:  "Ancient  History  of  the  Maori."  Cited  by  Joyce,  loc. 
cit. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  49 

practices  would  be  to  bring  the  real  results  of  the 
round-about  route  into  consciousness  and  cause  it 
to  be  adopted  rationally  or  at  least  to  cause  an 
atrophy  and  gradual  giving  up  of  the  old  practices 
with  the  retention  of  the  useful  ones  to  which  they 
had  led? 

It  is  remarkable,  in  fact  it  is  nothing  less  than 
astounding,  to  see  to  what  accurate  results  such 
blind  methods  have  led.  This  is  excellently  well 
shown  in  the  matter  of  exogamy.  In  general  it  may 
be  said  that  the  earliest  clearly  formulated  exogam- 
ous  tribal  organisation  consisted  in  a  separation  of 
the  clans  of  a  tribe  into  two  exogamous  groups  or 
phratries.15  Further  developments  came  by  suc- 
cessive dichotomies  resulting  respectively  to  four- 
class  and  eight-class  systems.  This  splitting  up  of 
the  tribe  into  exogamous  classes  was  for  the  express 
purpose  of  preventing  incest,  each  successive  split- 
ting serving  this  end  more  perfectly  by  removing 
still  further  the  possibilities  of  the  marriage  of  near 
kin. 

This  system,  devised  by  savages  so  ignorant  that 
they  did  not  even  know  the  part  the  male  plays  in 
the  reproductive  process,  is  nevertheless  justified 
by  our  present  day  scientific  standards.  For  ex- 
ample, the  two-class  system  is  especially  designed 
to  prevent  the  marriage  of  brothers  and  sisters, 
while  the  four-class  system,  a  later  development,  is 
especially  designed  to  prevent  the  marriage  of  par- 
is  Jrazer:  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  IV,  p.  116  sqq. 


50  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ents  and  children.16  This  is  precisely  the  reverse 
of  what  we  should  have  expected  a  priori.  "We 
would  have  expected  the  union  of  parents  and  chil- 
dren to  have  been  provided  against  first  because  that 
is  most  abhorrent  to  us.  If  we  will  stop  and  con- 
sider, however,  we  will  see  that  the  savages'  solution 
of  the  problem  was  better.  If  we  reduce  the  indi- 
vidual, for  purposes  of  consideration,  to  terms  of 
germ  plasm  we  will  see  that  brother  and  sister  both 
come  from  the  same  germ  plasm  stock,  while  parent 
and  child  come  from  stock  that  is  not  identical. 
The  child  is  only  one  quarter  germ  plasm  stock 
of  either  parent,  while  the  one  quarter  from  the 
other  parent  was  stock  that  the  parent  in  question 
found  suitable  to  mate  with  in  the  production  of 
the  child.  Union  between  brother  and  sister  is 
therefore  more  potent  for  any  harm  that  may  fol- 
low too  close  inbreeding  than  union  of  parent  and 
child. 

These  illustrations  are  sufficient  I  think  to  show 
how  progress  has  had  to  follow  the  course  of  trial 
and  error.  How  it  has  had  therefore  to  be  a  slow 
and  painful  process  of  overcoming  the  drag  back 
of  an  inherent  inertia,  sometimes  succeeding,  some- 
times being  led  into  sterile  byways.  This  drag  back, 
this  inertia,  call  it  what  you  will,  indolence,  super- 
stition, ignorance,  custom  or  what  not,  is  in  its  va- 
rious nuances  but  a  manifestation  of  the  unconscious, 
the  unconscious  that  can  only  wish.  Reality  is  al- 

16  The  way  in  which  this  is  accomplished  would  require  a  lengthy 
explanation  to  elucidate,  which  would  be  out  of  place  here. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  51 

ways  knocking  at  the  door,  always  demanding  recog- 
nition but  always  being  met  by  a  tendency  to  fixa- 
tion which  prevents  progress.  The  conflict  between 
the  demands  of  reality  for  a  more  accurate  adjust- 
ment is  always  being  met  by  the  drag  back  of  a 
desire  that  prefers  lack  of  exertion,  the  sense  of 
protection  and  finality  that  comes  by  remaining  in 
the  region  of  the  known  rather  than  continuous  ef- 
fort and  constant  projection  into  the  great  world 
of  the  unknown. 

I  am  tempted  at  this  point  to  draw  an  analogy  on 
the  somatic  side  between  reactions  at  the  thalamic 
and  at  the  cortical  levels. 

It  might  be  said  that  thalamic  reactions  are  es- 
sentially emotional  as  contrasted  to  cortical  reac- 
tions which  are  essentially  intellectual.  This  how- 
ever is  a  harking  back  to  the  old  faculty  psychology. 
There  are  no  such  things  as  emotions;  there  is  no 
entity  to  which  we  can  apply  the  term  intellect. 
The  human  being  is  an  organism,  a  biological  unit, 
reacting  to  certain  situations  and  many  of  these 
reactions  are  expressed  at  the  psychological  level. 
A  mental  state  so  resulting  is  a  whole  which  may 
present  several  aspects:  a  feeling  aspect,  an  intel- 
lectual aspect,  or  what  not.  But  these  several  as- 
pects are  not  things  any  more  than  the  face  of  a 
crystal  is  a  thing.  The  face  of  a  crystal  is  a  plane 
surface  and  therefore  has  only  length  and  breadth 
but  no  thickness.  It  is  but  an  aspect  and  not  a 
thing  in  itself.  As  the  crystal  may  be  turned  about 
and  viewed  from  any  side,  so  a  mental  state  may  be 


52  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

viewed  from  its  intellectual  or  its  emotional  aspect. 

The  characteristics  of  emotions  are  more  especially 
that  they  represent,  at  the  psychological  level,  bod- 
ily states  resulting  by  a  contact  of  the  organism  with 
problems  of  integration.  They  represent  the  end 
results  of  the  several  tendencies  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  body  in  what  has  been  termed  the  002- 
nesthesis,  which  is  the  psychic  feeling  tone  mediated 
by  the  afferent  currents  from  the  receptors  located 
in  the  several  organs,  the  proprieceptors  of  Sher- 
rington.  Intellectual  states,  on  the  contrary,  are 
more  removed  from  the  immediate  states  of  the  body 
and  deal  with  relations.  Mental  states  on  their  in- 
tellectual side  are  essentially  relational  in  character, 
deal  with  the  problem  of  adjustment,  and  are 
mediated  by  the  information  of  the  nature  of  the 
environment  delivered  to  the  psyche,  so  to  speak, 
by  the  organs  of  special  sense,  the  distance  recep- 
tors, or  again  to  use  a  term  of  Sherrington's,  the 
exteroceptors. 

The  contrast  is  well  shown  by  the  results  of  a 
study  of  sensory  disturbances  at  the  thalamic  and 
the  cortical  levels.17  To  stimulation  by  extremes  of 
heat  and  cold  a  thalamic  patient 18  responds  by  "Oh, 
something  has  caught  me";  " something  is  forcing 
its  way  through  me,  it  has  got  hold  of  me,  it  is  pinch- 

17 Henry  Head  and  Gordon  Holmes:  Sensory  Disturbances  from 
Cerebral  Lesions,  Brain,  1911. 

is  By  "thalamic  patient"  is  meant  a  patient  in  whom  a  lesion 
has  cut  off  the  thalamus  from  cortical  control  by  destroying  the 
cortico-thalamic  paths  but  which,  has  left  the  essential  organ  of  the 
thalamus  intact. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  53 

ing  me."  Another  patient  responds  to  a  touch  by 
"I  feel  you  touch  me,  but  I  can't  tell  where  it  is; 
the  touch  oozes  all  through  my  hand."  A  weight 
resting  on  the  hand  may  not  be  recognised,  but  at 
the  moment  it  is  placed  there  or  at  the  moment  it 
is  taken  away  the  patient  appreciates  that  "  some- 
thing has  happened." 

The  characteristic  responses  to  sensory  stimuli 
when  the  cortex  is  involved  are  quite  different. 
Usually  the  patient  says  that  the  stimulus  is  "less 
plain. ' '  The  relational  element  in  sensation  is  what 
is  most  disturbed,  however,  in  cortical  lesions  and 
so  the  patient  has  "no  idea"  of  shape,  form,  or 
relative  size  and  weight  of  the  test-object.  This 
is  especially  shown  with  the  Graham-Brown  aesthe- 
siometer.  Points  are  projected,  in  this  instrument, 
from  a  smooth  surface  until  the  patient  appreciates 
roughness  when  it  is  passed  over  the  skin.  With 
cortical  lesions  the  threshold  for  roughness,  deter- 
mined in  this  way,  is  the  same  in  both  hands.  On 
the  affected  side,  nevertheless,  the  patient  is  quite 
unable  to  correlate  his  sensations  in  appreciating 
texture.  Cotton,  silk,  and  stamped  velvet  cannot  be 
differentiated. 

Just  as  the  cortex  is  a  better,  a  more  exact  tool 
for  cutting  into  the  facts  of  reality,  so  the  intel- 
lectual attack  upon  reality  is  more  effective  than 
the  plain,  uncontrolled  feelings.  Just,  however,  as 
the  greatest  efficiency  is  obtained  in  the  brain  when 
the  cortico-thalamic  fibres,  which  are  the  avenue  for 
the  cortical  control  of  the  activity  of  the  thalamus, 


54  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

are  intact,  so  in  the  mind  the  best  results  come  by 
the  feelings,  which  are  ever  wishing,  being  subordi- 
nated to  an  intelligence  that  examines,  compares,  re- 
lates.19 

The  content  of  the  fore-conscious  is  also  uncon- 
scious if  we  use  that  term  solely  in  its  etymological 
sense.  The  multiplication  table  which  every  one 
knows  but  does  not  know  that  he  knows  until  his 
attention  is  focused  on  that  knowledge  was  uncon- 
scious, that  is  not-conscious,  and  furthermore  we 
cannot  say  how  such  knowledge  exists  in  our  minds 
when  it  is  not  illuminated  by  attention.  The  only 
adequate  reason  we  have  for  saying  that  it  exists 
in  the  form  of  ideas  is  that  we  always  find  it  in  that 
form  when  we  come  to  consciously  think  of  it.  The 
assumption  that  this  possibility  of  knowledge  exists 
in  the  form  of  ideas  is  only  an  hypothesis. 

The  difference  between  the  fore-conscious  and  the 
unconscious  is  therefore,  from  this  point  of  view, 
only  that  the  material  of  the  fore-conscious  is  ac- 
cessible, it  is  relatively  easy  to  bring  it  to  conscious- 
ness, there  are  no  material  resistances  to  its  be- 
coming conscious,  and  furthermore  it  is  relatively 

is  We  might  carry  the  correlation  with  the  physical  still  further 
particularly  on  the  emotional  side  of  consciousness  by  way  of  the 
sympathetic  and  autonomic  nervous  systems  and  the  internal  se- 
cretions, while  the  whole  matter  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
neuroses  is  more  generally  covered  by  Adler  in  his  "Minder- 
wertigkeit  der  Organe,"  and  "Ueber  den  Nervosen  Charakter."  Ad- 
ler believes  that  the  picture  of  the  neurosis  grows  out  of  an  effort 
to  make  good  certain  inherent  deficiencies,  the  results  of  actual  or- 
ganic defects,  and  that  the  effort  produces  an  over-compensation 
which  is  at  the  basis  of  the  morbid  phenomena. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  55 

accessible  to  the  individual  himself.  The  uncon- 
scious, on  the  other  hand,  is  inaccessible  alike  to  the 
patient  and  to  others  and  any  attempt  to  get  at  its 
content  is  met  by  more  or  less  strong  resistances. 
When  we  find  the  unconscious  material,  we  are  no 
more  able  to  say,  than  in  the  case  of  the  fore-con- 
scious, that  it  has  been  existing  in  the  form  of  ideas. 
We  only  know  by  the  method  of  interpretation. 
Certain  conduct  can  only  reach  its  explanation  by 
assuming  that  such  and  such  material — ideas — ac- 
count for  it. 

A  still  more  radical  difference  between  the  fore- 
conscious  and  unconscious  than  that  of  accessibility 
is  the  difference  in  the  character  of  the  ideas  that 
make  their  way  finally  into  consciousness  from  these 
two  regions.  The  ideas  of  the  fore-conscious  when 
they  become  conscious  are  perfectly  familiar.  The 
multiplication  table  is  the  same  old  multiplication 
table  we  have  always  known.  The  ideas,  however, 
that  emerge  from  the  region  of  the  unconscious  are 
not  recognised.  They  not  infrequently  come  with  a 
distinct  feeling  of  strangeness — of  not-at-homeness. 
They  have  distinctly  the  character  of  invaders,  of 
being  in  a  strange,  uncongenial  environment.  Their 
meaning,  their  value  is  not  given.  If  analysed  they 
will  be  found  to  have  meanings  altogether  different 
from  what  they  appear  to  have.  Under  a  fear  a 
wish  will  be  found  hidden,  the  idea  of  a  ruler  will 
be  found  to  hide  the  image  of  the  father,  right  and 
left  may  mean  right  and  wrong,  etc.  In  other  words 
they  are  highly  symbolic. 


56  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  understanding  of  the  reason  for  this  sym- 
bolism (see  chap.  V)  is  at  the  basis  of  the  under- 
standing of  the  nature  of  the  unconscious.  The 
conflict  which  we  have  described  is  a  conflict  between 
desire  and  reality — between  the  pleasure  motive 
(Lustprinzip)  and  the  reality  motive  (Realitats- 
prinzip)  of  conduct.20  Now  the  pleasure  motive  is 
essentially,  as  we  have  seen,  emotional  as  opposed 
to  the  intellectual  nature  of  the  reality  of  motive,  and 
while  matters  intellectual  are  capable  of  relatively 
clear  formulation  both  in  words  and  in  thought, 
matters  emotional  are  not.  We  have  not,  even  yet, 
evolved  a  language  of  the  emotions  which  enables 
us  to  define  them  in  terms  of  unequivocal  meaning. 
We  can  feel,  but  we  cannot  put  our  feelings  into 
words.  And  so  when  these  feelings,  which  are  the 
reverberations  of  past  experiences,  come  to  attempt 
to  find  expression  in  clear  consciousness  they  must 
needs  do  so  symbolically21  for  clear  consciousness 
implies  a  situation  intellectually  controlled. 

In  the  conflict  between  the  pleasure  and  the  re- 
ality principles  which  I  have  given  instances  of  in 
primitive  man,  and  which  is  repeated  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  individual,  it  will  be  evident  that  man 
is  a  feeling  being  before  he  is  a  thinking  being.  The 
intellect  as  we  know  it,  is  man's  latest  and  most  per- 
fect instrument  which  he  has  developed  for  cutting 

20  Freud,    S.:     Formulierungen    ueber    die    zwei    Principien    des 
psychischen  Geschehens.     Jahrbuch  fur  psychoanalyt.  u.  psychopath. 
Forschungen,  III. 

21  The  question  of  repression  is  purposely  omitted  here. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  57 

into  the  mysteries  of  nature.  How  much  more  ac- 
curate its  information  is  can  be  seen  by  the  example 
of  the  answers  given  by  the  thalamic  patient,  already 
quoted.  The  conflicts  in  the  past  then  have  been 
conflicts  in  which  this  vague  feeling  content  of  con- 
sciousness predominated.  In  fact  it  can  never  be 
too  strongly  insisted  upon  that  the  so-called  recol- 
lections that  psychoanalysis  brings  out  of  early  in- 
fancy may  not  be  recollections  in  the  true  sense  of 
that  term  at  all.  The  formulation  which  the  patient 
gives  them  is  probably  much  more  definite  and  clear 
cut  than  was  the  experience  itself.  The  experiences 
of  the  child  and  of  primitive  man  are  overwhelm- 
ingly affective  in  character,  they  are  trends  only 
which  probably  are  not  expressed  clearly  in  con- 
sciousness at  all  and  when  analysis  draws  the  pa- 
tient back  to  these  situations  the  clearness  with 
which  they  are  expressed  on  the  ideational  side  may 
very  probably  be  in  part  an  artefact,  at  least  to  the 
extent  to  which  the  emotional  experiences  of  the  un- 
conscious are  expressed  in  the  language  of  the  con- 
scious. Not  that  the  facts  as  testified  to  were  not 
experienced  but  the  feeling  experiences  of  the  child 
are  translated  into  the  conceptual  symbolism  of  the 
adult  consciousness. 

How  vague  these  reverberations  may  be  and  how 
impossible  of  formulation  we  occasionally  experience 
when  we  revisit  the  place  in  which  we  spent  our 
childhood  days.  For  a  moment,  but  for  a  moment 
only,  we  may  get,  as  we  stand  in  some  familiar  spot 
a  vague,  fleeting  feeling  as  if  we  felt  as  we  used  to 


58  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

feel  when  years  ago  as  a  child.  But  the  feeling  is 
gone  almost  as  soon  as  felt  and  if  it  returns  it  is 
only  to  go  again  as  quickly. 

The  difficulty  of  getting  things  back  as  they  were 
is  not  alone  due  to  their  inaccessibility  or  to  their 
essentially  affective  character,  but  to  a  still  further 
qualitative  difference  which  is  fundamental.  Any 
particular  act,  at  any  particular  moment  of  life,  is 
an  end  result :  It  is  made  possible  in  the  particular 
form  it  takes  because  of  all  that  has  gone  before. 
Bergson  22  very  well  states  it  when  he  says :  "  What 
are  we,  in  fact,  what  is  our  character,  if  not  the  con- 
densation of  the  history  that  we  have  lived  from  our 
birth — nay,  even  before  our  birth,  since  we  bring 
with  us  prenatal  dispositions?  Doubtless  we  think 
with  only  a  small  part  of  our  past,  but  it  is  with 
our  entire  past,  including  the  original  bent  of  our 
soul,  that  we  desire,  will  and  act."  Our  past  con- 
flicts, therefore,  with  their  affective  reverberations 
can  never  be  recalled  or  relived;  they  have  gone 
to  form  the  very  fibre  of  our  being  as  we  now  are ; 
they  have  been  lived  past  and  lived  through.  The 
fore-conscious,  while  it  might  as  well  be  conscious, 
might  also  as  well  be  present.  The  unconscious  is 
our  historical  past. 

The  fore-conscious  is  only  that  part  of  conscious- 
ness which  for  the  time  being  is  out  of  the  focus  of 
attention.  It  is  a  part  of  the  present  of  conscious- 
ness, that  is,  the  matter  now  being  dealt  with.  As 
soon  as  this  material  of  the  now  of  consciousness  is 

22  Ibid.,  p.  5. 


59 

put  into  the  past  by  being  used  as  material  in  our 
growth,  as  soon  as  it  takes  its  place  in  the  path  of 
our  development  by  affording  a  resting  place  for 
further  superstructures,  then  it  enters  into  our  his- 
torical past  and  as  it  recedes  in  the  path  of  progress 
it  partakes  more  and  more  of  the  nature  of  the  un- 
conscious. 

The  unconscious  then  is  like  the  tail  of  a  kite. 
While  it  drags  down  and  holds  back  it  nevertheless 
steadies  its  flight  and  at  once  prevents  it  from  dash- 
ing itself  to  pieces  by  a  sudden  dart  downwards  and 
makes  it  possible  for  it  to  reach  greater  heights. 

This  quality  of  the  unconscious  which  makes  it 
impossible  that  it  should  ever  be  exactly  recalled, 
ever  be  relived  as  it  was  before,  because  the  person 
in  which  it  exists  is  a  different  person  because  of 
the  part  which  that  very  unconscious  has  taken  in 
his  development;  this  quality  again  makes  it  neces- 
sary that  when  it  seeks  expression  in  consciousness 
that  that  expression  should  be  symbolic.  The  vague 
feeling  trends  have  to  be  translated  into  the  lan- 
guage of  the  individual  as  he  then  exists. 

The  unconscious,  then,  as  our  historical  past,  is 
the  path  by  which  we  have  come.  It  represents  re- 
sistances overcome,  dangers  avoided.  This  path 
though  is  a  psychological  path,  it  represents  events 
at  the  psychological  level  and  not  at  the  neurological 
level,  as  some  have  claimed.  The  essential  thing 
in  the  development  of  the  personality  is  to  forge 
ahead  on  the  " straight  and  narrow  path,"  slowly 
perhaps,  but  surely,  consistently,  constructively. 


60  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

At  each  point  along  the  path  we  are  in  danger  of  be- 
ing side-tracked  or  of  tarrying  too  long.  We  may 
be  side-tracked  by  an  unfortunate  environment,  if 
our  energies  flag  we  are  threatened  with  fixation. 
Both  of  these  dangers  may  be  passed,  but  in  later 
life,  if  for  any  reason  introversion  and  regression 
take  place,  these  old  ways  may  become  re-animated 
and  determine  the  special  way  in  which  the  introver- 
sion shall  manifest  itself  in  the  symptoms. 

This  concept  enables  us  to  see  how  often  it  is  not 
possible  to  get  a  complete  explanation  of  conduct 
from  any  amount  of  analysis  of  the  individual. 
Many  reactions,  especially  in  praecox,  are  so  primi- 
tive in  type  that  we  must  seek  their  explanation,  not 
in  the  individual  consciousness,  but  in  the  race  con- 
sciousness, and  that  by  the  comparative  method. 
Just  as  many  customs,  for  example  religious  cere- 
monials, must  be  explained  by  a  study  of  the  de- 
velopment of  the  customs  through  the  ages  and  the 
comparison  with  them  of  similar  customs  of  other 
peoples,  so  many  of  the  reactions  of  the  mentally 
diseased  can  only  reach  their  full  explanation  when 
we  have  studied  the  mind  in  its  stages  of  develop- 
ment in  the  race  and  see  the  analogies  with  savage 
and  infantile  ways  of  thinking. 

"The  route  we  pursue  in  time  is  strewn  with  the 
remains  of  all  that  we  began  to  be,  of  all  that  we 
might  have  become."  23 

There  is,  as  we  might  expect,  a  large  borderland 
between  conduct  wholly  determined  by  conscious  mo- 

23Bergson:   Ibid.,  p.  100. 


THE  UNCONSCIOUS  61 

tives  and  conduct  controlled  by  unconscious  motives. 
This  is  the  region  which  has  been  so  splendidly 
studied  by  Freud  in  his  "  Psychopathology  of 
Everyday  Life."24  In  this  region  conduct  is  de- 
fective. The  slips  of  the  tongue,  mistakes,  forget- 
tings,  erroneously  carried  out  actions  and  the  thou- 
sand and  one  little  defects  in  our  daily  conduct  show 
us  a  region  from  which  the  Lustprinzip  has  not 
quite  relinquished  its  hold  and  in  which  the  Kealitats- 
prinzip  has  not  yet  become  quite  fully  efficient.  The 
actual  determination  to  act  seems  to  set  aglow  these 
other  possible  actions  and  occasionally  one  glows 
brightly  enough  to  lead  the  action  along  its  path. 
It  is  as  if  in  our  living  we  were  surrounded  by  a 
haze  of  possibilities  and  that  this  or  that  might  be- 
come an  actuality  by  a  very  little  change  in  the  con- 
ditions. 

Action  controlled  by  the  unconscious  may  be  of 
little  importance,  as  a  slip  of  the  tongue,  or  may 
lead  to  severe  crippling  of  the  individual  by  the 
development  of  a  neurosis  or  a  psychosis.  Such 
conduct,  which,  because  of  its  symbolic  character  is 
quite  as  strange  and  incapable  of  being  understood 
by  the  patient  as  by  an  onlooker,  may  be  looked  at 
from  the  teleological  standpoint  as  a  defence  reac- 
tion against  a  recognition  of  motives  that  would  be 
painful  or  as  the  persistence  of  modes  of  reaction — 
vestigial  mechanisms — which  have  been  discarded — 
repressed — in  the  course  of  development. 

24  Trans,  by  Brill.    The  Macmillan   Co.,  New  York,   1914. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  CONFLICT 

Change  of  any  sort  implies  the  concept  of  motion. 
This  is  true  not  only  of  inorganic  masses  but  equally 
of  biological  processes  such  as  growth,  development, 
evolution.  Motion  implies  overcoming  resistance  and 
this  in  turn  implies  the  concepts  of  action  and  reac- 
tion. Action  and  reaction  are  equal  and  in  opposite 
directions.  From  this  law  is  deducible  ambivalency, 
the  conflict,  and  repression.  Motion  meets  resist- 
ance in  the  opposite  direction  (ambivalency),  the 
conjunction  of  two  forces  striving  in  opposite  direc- 
tions (the  conflict),  one  succeeds  in  dominating  the 
other  (repression). 

These  terms  then  are  seen  to  be  only  new  words 
to  express  old  concepts,  only  the  old  concepts  are 
being  applied  to  a  different  order  of  experiences, 
higher  we  will  call  them  if  the  application  works 
(the  pragmatic  test).  Those  at  all  familiar  with 
psychoanalytic  concepts  will  know  that  the  opposing 
forces  of  the  conflict  are,  in  psychological  terms,  the 
conscious  and  the  unconscious. 

The  relationship  of  conscious  and  unconscious  is 
the  relationship  of  actual  situations  to  the  historical 
past  of  the  psyche.  The  psyche  like  the  body  has 

62 


THE  CONFLICT  63 

its  embryology  and  its  comparative  anatomy,  and 
just  as  the  reflex  is  a  bit  of  experience  woven  into 
the  structure  of  the  organism  so  are  psychological 
experiences,  which  are  frequently  repeated  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  race,  preserved  in  the  unconscious.  It  is 
again  the  relation  of  the  stimulus  to  the  body  stimu- 
lated. The  stimulus  is  any  change  in  surrounding 
conditions:  the  body  stimulated,  represented  at  the 
psychological  level  by  the  unconscious,  is  that  whole 
complex  of  organised  reactions  which  represents  the 
psychological  history  of  the  organism  and  which 
as  it  meets  the  stimulus  brings  all  of  its  tendencies 
to  bear  in  the  present  moment,  which  no  sooner  lived 
is  itself  added  to  the  past  to  become  a  new  vantage 
ground  upon  which  the  future  may  build. 

From  still  another  point  of  view  the  stimulus  is 
reality  knocking  at  the  door  for  recognition.  The 
endless  flux  of  outside  changes  each  demands  an  an- 
swering change  of  like  degree  within.  This  balanced 
progress  of  adjustment  makes  up  the  moving  equi- 
librium which  constitutes  the  flow  of  life  itself.  Con- 
flict is  at  the  very  root  and  source  of  life,  it  is  the 
very  stuff  out  of  which  life  is  made,  and  the  neces- 
sary pre-condition  of  progress. 

If  conflict  is  so  necessary  it  then  becomes  of  su- 
preme importance  to  inquire  what  happens  as  a  re- 
sult of  conflict.  How  does  the  conflict  resolve  itself? 
In  approaching  this  question  we  can  get  some  help 
by  the  use  of  analogies  taken  from  the  physical  world 
— we  will  then  be  able  to  see  how  the  laws  that  gov- 
ern such  analogous  situations  may  be  differently  ex- 


64  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

pressed  and  made  applicable  in  the  realm  of  the 
psyche. 

The  broadest  expression  of  the  action  of  the  law 
that  I  have  intimated  exists,  is  known  as  the  theorem 
of  Le  Chatelier  l  which  stated  briefly  is  to  the  effect 
that  "a  system  tends  to  change  so  as  to  minimise 
an  external  disturbance. ' '  A  series  of  examples  will 
make  this  clear. 

If  an  electric  current  is  passed  through  a  solution 
there  is  a  tendency  to  the  formation  of  a  counter 
current  which  thus  reduces  the  electrical  stress. 
Suspended  particles  in  a  liquid  are  caused,  by  a  dif- 
ference in  potential,  to  move  in  the  direction  that 
reduces  the  electrical  stress.  Photo-sensitive  sub- 
stances tend  to  change  in  a  way  to  eliminate  the 
strain  caused  by  the  light.  When  the  wind  blows 
against  a  tree  the  boughs  bend  so  as  to  spill  it.  Ani- 
mals in  a  cold  climate  develop  thick  coats  of  fur  so 
as  to  prevent  the  radiation  of  heat.  Desert  plants 
are  very  hairy.  By  this  means  the  circulation  of  air 
and  consequently  the  rate  of  evaporation  is  impeded. 
The  submerged  leaves  of  aquatic  plants  do  not  de- 
velop the  supporting  framework  of  the  aerial  leaves. 
An  irritant  in  the  eye  is  washed  out  by  a  flow  of 
tears,  in  the  gastro-enteric  tract  by  vomiting  and 
purging.  A  serious  shortage  of  men  to  do  a  certain 

i  Bancroft,  W.  D. :  A  Universal  Law:  In  this,  Professor  Ban- 
croft's presidential  address  to  the  American  Chemical  Society,  he 
gives  many  illustrations  of  Le  Chatelier's  theorem.  I  have  drawn 
freely  from  these  illustrations  and  beg  to  acknowledge  my  indebted- 
ness. 


THE  CONFLICT  65 

kind  of  work  causes  a  rise  in  wages  and  a  flow  of  men 
to  that  point  to  fill  the  position  thus  lessening  the  ten- 
sion of  the  industrial  situation.  Plants  and  trees 
that  have  been  seriously  injured  often  flower,  thus 
showing  a  tendency  to  limit  the  destructive  effects 
of  the  injury. 

Innumerable  examples  might  be  given  of  this  law 
— let  us  see  some  of  its  more  immediate  applications 
to  man  and  especially  at  the  psychological  level. 
Hunger  brings  about  those  activities  necessary  for 
the  procurement  of  food  and  the  consequent  ap- 
peasement of  the  craving.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  sex  hunger.  Kempf  2  formulates  the  law  in  this 
way:  "A  motive,  no  matter  at  what  conscious,  sub- 
conscious, or  unconscious  level  of  the  personality  it 
may  be  active,  after  its  genesis,  tends  to  express  it- 
self by  forcing  into  consciousness  sensations  of  ex- 
ogenous origin  or  sensory  images  of  endogenous 
origin  which  have  the  function  of  generating  coun- 
ter, neutralising  reactions." 

The  desire  for  money  prompts  those  activities 
which  lead  to  its  acquisition  and  so  brings  about  a 
state  of  affairs  that  leads  to  satisfaction  by  supply- 
ing the  stimuli  for  generating  neutralising  reactions, 
thus  relieving  the  stress  in  the  system.  Fear 
prompts  to  run  away  and  get  into  an  environment 
that  will  give  the  feeling  of  safety.  Anger  prompts 
the  killing  or  injuring  of  an  enemy.  On  a  higher 

2  Kempf,  E.  J.:  Some  Studies  in  the  Psychopathology  of  Acute 
Dissociation  of  the  Personality.  The  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol. 
II,  No.  4,  Oct.,  1915. 


66  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

level  are  all  those  highly  sublimated  forms  of  con- 
duct which  express  the  creative  energy  in  artistic, 
literary,  and  scientific  productions. 

It  is  important  to  realise,  at  this  point,  that  the 
activities  of  the  organism  that  are  brought  about  to 
neutralise  desires  may  effect  an  adequate  and  ef- 
ficient relation  with  reality  or  they  may  not.  The 
person  who  desires  money  and  proceeds  to  establish 
himself  in  business  and  earn  it  has  brought  about 
an  efficient  relating  of  himself  to  his  environment, 
but  the  person  who  wants  money  and  does  nothing 
about  it  but  indulge  in  day  dreams  of  what  he  would 
do  if  he  had  it  is  decidedly  inefficient  in  his  relation 
to  his  conflict.  Both,  however,  have  dealt  with  the 
conflict  by  bringing  about  conditions  that  tend  to 
neutralise  the  desire,  tend  to  reduce  the  disturbance 
in  the  system  brought  about  by  the  unsatisfied  desire, 
one  has  reacted  effectively,  the  other  has  reacted  in 
a  pathological  way.  In  one  case  there  was  an  effi- 
cient reaction  to  the  demands  of  reality,  in  the  other 
there  was  the  building  up  of  a  world  of  phantasy. 

If  conflict,  of  which  I  have  already  given  many  il- 
lustrations in  various  realms  of  activity  even  out- 
side of  the  field  of  biology,  is  so  universal  we  should 
be  able  to  find  evidences  of  it  in  the  form  of  struc- 
tures and  institutions  which  have  received  their 
forms  as  a  result  of  its  influences. 

The  essential  nature  of  a  conflict  is  the  existence 
of  two  opposing  forces.  As  already  indicated  this 
is  expressed  in  the  psychic  sphere  by  the  demands 
of  reality  upon  the  accumulated  experiences  of  the 


THE  CONFLICT  67 

individual  represented  in  the  unconscious.  It  is 
further  exemplified  in  the  psyche  by  the  principle  of 
ambivalency  and  ambitendency  which  has  been  set 
forth  by  Bleuler.3  As  he  puts  it,  ambivalency 
"  gives  to  the  same  idea  two  contrary  feeling  tones 
and  invests  the  same  thought  simultaneously  with 
both  a  positive  and  a  negative  character,"  while  am- 
bitendency "sets  free  with  every  tendency  a  counter 
tendency. ' ' 

This  means  that  in  the  psyche  the  idea  which  lies 
closest  to  another  idea  is  its  opposite,  as  for  example 
the  idea  that  lies  closest  to  long  is  short:  to  hot  is 
cold:  to  white  is  black:  to  thick  is  thin:  to  fat  is 
lean:  to  good  is  bad,  etc.,  etc.  The  same  principle 
is  involved  also  in  actions.  Bleuler  uses  these  prin- 
ciples to  explain  the  phenomena  of  negativism  and 
calls  attention  to  the  character  of  reactions  not  only 
among  the  mentally  diseased  in  which  the  opposite 
tendency  is  carried  out,  as  for  example,  the  frequent 
type  of  reaction  by  closing  the  eyes  tightly  when  an 
attempt  is  made  to  examine  the  pupils  or  closing  the 
lips  tightly  when  asked  to  put  out  the  tongue,  but 
also  to  the  obstinacy  so  frequently  observed  in  chil- 
dren and  in  many  other  types. 

This  contrary  tendency  is  engrafted  in  the  very 
nature  of  things  and  is  perhaps  most  prominently  in 
evidence  in  the  structure  and  functions  of  the  body 
in  the  antagonism  between  the  autonomic  and  sym- 
pathetic nervous  systems.  Eppinger  and  Hess  in 

s  The  Theory  of  Schizophrenic  Negativism.  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis. 
Monograph  Series,  No.  11. 


68  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

a  recent  monograph4  have  expressed  it  by  saying 
"every  visceral  organ  is  supplied  by  sympathetic 
fibres,  which  work  antagonistically  to  the  autonomic. 

"Hence  it  may  be  stated  that  the  normal  progress 
of  functioning  of  visceral  organs  is  a  well  regulated 
interaction  between  two  contrary  acting  forces." 

The  viscera  are  not  in  a  state  of  flaccid  inactivity 
until  called  upon  to  respond  to  some  stimulus,  but 
in  a  state  of  balanced  contrary  innervation  which 
makes  response  more  prompt  and  easy  in  either  di- 
rection. Like  the  muscles  of  an  athlete  they  are  in 
a  state  of  tension — tonus — capable  of  responding  on 
the  instant  to  demands  of  either  offence  or  defence. 

It  would  be  natural  to  suppose  that  so  fundamental 
a  distinction  would  find  its  expression  in  forms  of 
speech,  in  language.  Bain  says,5  "The  essential 
relativity  of  all  knowledge,  thought  or  consciousness 
cannot  but  show  itself  in  language.  If  everything 
that  we  can  know  is  viewed  as  a  transition  from 
something  else,  every  experience  must  have  two 
sides ;  and  every  name  must  have  a  double  meaning, 
or  else  for  every  meaning  there  must  be  two  names. ' ' 

Abel  studied  early  forms  of  words  6  and  found  this 
principle  illustrated.  Many  of  the  old  words  are 
combinations  of  opposites  such  as  altjung  (  =  old- 
young),  fernnah  (  =  far-near),  ausserinnen  (  =  out- 
in),  bindentrennen  (  =  bind-separate)  which  came 

*VagotonIa.    Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monograph  Series,  No.  20. 
e  "Logic." 

«  Karl  Abel :  Ueber  der  Gegenainn  der  Urworte.  Kef erat  by  Freud 
in  Jahrbuch  f.  psychanalytische  u.  psychopath.  Forschungen,  1910. 


THE  CONFLICT  69 

to  mean  respectively  young,  near,  in,  to  bind  up.  It 
is,  for  example,  as  if  in  the  case  of  the  word  altjung 
(  =  old-young)  the  question  at  issue  was  the  age  and 
it  was  only  in  a  later  stage  of  development  that  sepa- 
rate terms  old  and  young  could  develop  as  repre- 
senting the  opposite  extremes  of  age.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  other  words. 

Abel  mentions  a  number  of  English  words  of  the 
same  sort,  such  as  without,  which  is  a  combination  of 
mit  (with),  and  ohne  (without).  Mit  he  says  origi- 
nally meant  with  (mit)  and  also  without  (ohne). 

Bleuler 7  mentions  this  same  tendency  in  children 
who  use  the  same  expressions  for  both  positive  and 
negative  ideas  as  tii  tu  for  Tiire  zu  (door  to)  for 
both  open  and  close  the  door  and  zuletzt  (last)  for 
zuerst  (first). 

This  principle  is  involved  in  some  of  the  oldest 
of  human  documents.  It  is  exemplified  in  the  Yih 
system  of  the  Chinese  as  set  forth  in  the  Yih  King, 
one  of  the  most  ancient  of  human  documents.8  "He 
who  understands  the  yih  is  supposed  to  possess  the 
key  to  the  riddle  of  the  universe. 

"The  yih  is  capable  of  representing  all  combina- 
tions of  existence.  The  elements  of  the  yih,  yang 
the  positive  principle  and  yin  the  negative  principle, 
stand  for  the  elements  of  being.  Yang  means 
' bright'  and  yin,  'dark.'  Yang  is  the  principle  of 
heaven ;  yin,  the  principle  of  the  earth.  Yang  is  the 

7  Loc.  cit. 

s  Paul  Carus,  "Chinese  Thought,"  Open  Court  Pub.  Co.,  Chicago, 
1907. 


70  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sun,  yin  is  the  moon.  Yang  is  masculine  arid  active ; 
yin  is  feminine  and  passive.  The  former  is  motion ; 
the  latter  is  rest.  Yang  is  strong,  rigid,  lord-like; 
yin  is  mild,  pliable,  submissive,  wife-like.  The  strug- 
gle between,  and  the  different  mixture  of,  these  two 
elementary  contrasts,  condition  all  the  differences 
that  prevail,  the  state  of  the  elements,  the  nature  of 
things,  and  also  the  character  of  the  various  person- 
alities as  well  as  the  destinies  of  human  beings." 
We  probably  have  a  similar  system  in  the  Urim  and 
Thummim  of  the  Hebrews.9 

There  might  be  mentioned  as  additional  illustra- 
tions, which  are  none  the  less  important  because 
obvious,  the  contraries  good-bad,  heaven-hell,  angel- 
devil,  white-black,  right-wrong.  Such  oppositions 
stand  at  the  very  foundations  of  morality  and  re- 
ligion. 

Thus  the  way  of  the  conflict  is  a  universal  way  in 
which  force  manifests  itself.  Action  and  reaction 
(the  conflict)  are  equal  and  in  opposite  directions 
(ambi valency).  This  concept  would  imply  a  state 
of  rest  but  in  the  living  being  the  conflict  is  the  ex- 
pression of  the  moving  equilibrium  established  be- 
tween the  individual  and  its  environment.  The  liv- 
ing being  starts  in  the  world  as  a  single  cell  capable 
of  varying  degrees  of  development  depending  upon 
the  living  form  it  represents  in  embryo.  This  cell 
is,  so  to  speak,  a  nucleus  of  tendencies  introduced 
into  a  world  of  matter  and  energy  and  as  soon  as 

9  Paul  Carus,  "The  Oracle  of  Yahveh,"  Open  Court  Pub.  Co., 
Chicago,  1911. 


THE  CONFLICT  71 

these  tendencies  begin  to  manifest  themselves,  as 
soon  as  they  begin  to  burgeon  forth  and  seek  to  de- 
velop they  inevitably  come  in  conflict  with  the  world 
about.  These  tendencies,  representing  in  their  final 
activities  the  set  of  the  organism,  come  in  conflict 
with  the  world  about.  At  the  psychological  level  the 
conflict  is  represented  by  the  two  terms,  the  uncon- 
scious and  the  conscious,  that  is,  by  what  these  two 
terms  represent,  the  unconscious  representing  the  in- 
herent and  acquired  tendencies,  the  conscious  repre- 
senting the  moment  when  they  come  into  active  touch 
with  reality  in  an  effort  to  effect  an  adjustment. 

Looked  at  from  another  angle  the  conflict  is  be- 
tween the  pleasure-pain  principle  or  motive  and  the 
reality  principle  or  motive.  The  pleasure-pain  mo- 
tive is  the  unconscious,  the  tendencies  of  the  organ- 
ism as  they  exist  at  the  moment  of  active  contact 
with  reality  and  which  offer  a  resistance  to  the  re- 
adjustment demanded  by  reality.  This  resistance 
expressed  in  psychological  terms  is  a  desire  or  wish 
— a  wish  not  to  be  overcome  by  the  necessity,  being 
forced  upon  it  by  reality,  of  re-adjustment. 

The  conflict  never  results  in  a  draw,  on  the  con- 
trary, first  one  of  the  opposing  forces  gains  the  as- 
cendant, the  other  is  for  the  time  being  worsted  (re- 
pression), then  the  other  is  successful,  and  so  this 
process  goes  on  about  a  central  point,  like  the  needle 
of  a  tangent  galvanometer,  constantly  in  motion 
swinging  first  to  one  side  then  to  the  other  of  the 
zero  mark  on  the  scale,  but  never  coming  to  rest — a 
moving  equilibrium. 


72  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

In  the  course  of  life  one  or  the  other  tendency  may 
dominate  at  any  particular  time — the  balance  may 
be  on  one  or  the  other  side  of  the  ledger,  in  favour 
of  life  or  of  death.  For  those  who  live  the  balance 
is,  on  the  whole,  in  favour  of  life  although  there 
may  be  numerous  swings  of  the  needle  to  the  op- 
posite side,  while  for  those  who  die,  in  spite  of  occa- 
sional balances  in  their  favour,  the  general  average  is 
against  them.  The  needle,  too,  may  swing  far  or 
just  barely  past  the  zero  mark — the  individual  may 
be  abundantly  well  and  highly  efficient,  or  on  the 
contrary,  just  able  to  keep  the  balance  slightly  in  his 
favour. 

Negativism  is  an  example  at  the  psychological  level 
of  the  condition  of  affairs  when  the  balance  stands 
against  the  individual.  The  slight  attacks  of  ob- 
stinacy of  the  child  are  usual  and  so  considered 
quite  within  the  limits  of  the  normal,10  the  nega- 
tivism of  the  schizophrenic  has  quite  passed  those 
bounds  and  is  to  be  considered  as  pathological.  In 
suicide  we  see  the  complete  negation  of  life  itself — 
the  balance  is  overwhelmingly  against  the  individual. 
In  all  of  these  conditions,  while  the  negativism  is  in 
the  ascendant  the  other  factor  of  the  conflict  is  re- 
pressed. 

Many  other  examples  come  easily  to  us.  The  man 
who  robs  his  friend,  and  the  student  who  has  a  task 
to  do  but  deliberately  neglects  it  to  go  fishing,  have 
both  temporarily  repressed  their  better  instincts. 

1°  In  my  opinion  "normal"  can  have  no  other  meaning  than 
"usual."  The  two  terms  are  interchangeable. 


THE  CONFLICT  73 

The  course  of  conduct  in  both  instances,  however, 
might  have  been  different  if  the  repression  had  been 
of  the  opposite  factor  in  the  conflict.  In  that  case 
the  one  man  would  have  remained  honest  and  the 
other  would  have  performed  his  task. 

THE   LIBIDO 

In  all  these  examples  of  conflict  it  is  evident  that 
we  have  been  using  terms  for  forms  of  energy.  Con- 
flict is  the  tool  which  energy  uses  to  pry  itself  loose 
from  old  moorings  and  gain  expression  at  a  higher 
level.  It  is  the  expression  of  energy  in  the  throes 
of  creation — creative  energy — libido.11  To  illus- 
trate: The  hungry  man  is  in  conflict  with  his  de- 
sire for  food.  The  tendency,  as  we  have  seen,  is  to 
bring  about  actions  which  will  lead  to  sensations 
that  will  neutralise  the  cravings.  When  this  has 
been  done,  the  hunger  satisfied,  then  the  man  is  free 
from  conflict  at  that  level,  the  libido  is  free  to  trans- 
fer the  field  of  battle  to  a  higher  level;  he  can  now 
use  his  energies  in  writing  a  poem,  performing  a 
surgical  operation,  organising  a  social  campaign. 
Conflict  has  not  been  done  away  with  as  such,  it  has 
only  been  raised  to  a  higher  level,  and  this  is  a  move- 
ment in  the  direction  both  of  integration  and  adjust- 
ment as  already  illustrated  (Chapter  II). 

We  may  say  that  the  libido  is  always  striving  to 
attain  higher  levels  of  adjustment.  Such  an  expres- 

11 1  am  conscious  of  the  objections  to  this  term  but  it  seems  to 
be  too  well  grounded  in  use  to  discard.  Then,  too,  the  important 
thing  is  the  concept  and  not  the  name. 


74 

sion  is  both  teleological  and  anthropomorphic  and 
as  such  open  to  all  sorts  of  objections.  We  have 
come  to  believe,  however,  that  the  different  stages 
of  evolution  represent  a  progress  upward  and  that 
we  also  are  on  the  upward  path.  Although  such 
expressions  may  be  objected  to  it  is  perhaps  well  to 
consider  Schopenhauer's  words,  in  this  connection, 
when  he  says:  "The  foundation  on  which  all  our 
knowledge  and  science  rests  is  the  inexplicable.  To 
this  all  explanations  lead,  be  the  intermediate  stages 
few  or  many;  as  in  ocean  soundings,  the  lead  must 
always  touch  the  bottom  at  last  in  deep  seas  and 
shallow  alike." 

If  the  conflict  is  decided  with  the  balance  in  favour 
of  the  individual  a  feeling  of  pleasure,  satisfaction, 
success  results ;  if  on  the  other  side  the  result  is  pain, 
suffering,  dissatisfaction.  The  hungry  man  who 
eats  is  gratified,  if  he  is  unable  to  obtain  food  he  is 
in  distress.  When  the  conflict  wavers,  when  there 
is  no  unqualified  success  of  either  antagonist,  the 
state  of  mind  is  one  of  doubt,  indecision  and  uncer- 
tainty, first  one  solution  seeming  the  better  and  then 
the  opposite  replacing  it.  Strong  antipathic  feel- 
ings such  as  hate  and  disgust  are  efforts  at  prying 
the  energy  free  from  lower  levels  so  that  the  plane 
of  conflict  may  be  carried  higher.  The  man  who 
expresses  abhorrence  for  a  certain  act  is  much  nearer 
the  possibility  of  such  an  act  himself  than  is  he  who 
can  view  it  undisturbed  and  with  a  judicial  attitude 
of  mind,  he  therefore  must  summon  all  his  reserves 
to  escape  it. 


THE  CONFLICT  75 

The  transfer  of  the  conflict  from  a  lower  to  a 
higher  plane  may  or  may  not  mean  any  real  gain  ac- 
cording to  our  philosophy.  There  certainly  has  been 
no  putting  aside  of  the  possibility  of  suffering  pain 
or  permanent  addition  to  the  capacity  for  pleasure. 
Every  increase  in  the  sensitiveness  to  pain  means  a 
corresponding  increase  in  the  capacity  for  pleasure, 
every  increase  in  the  capacity  for  pleasure  means  a 
corresponding  capacity  for  suffering.  Development 
of  the  capacity  for  pleasure  or  for  pain,  for  con- 
structiveness  or  for  destructiveness,  for  good  or  for 
bad,  and  all  the  other  pairs  of  contraries,  must  needs 
go  together.  Increase  in  the  strength  of  one  of  the 
pair  implies  a  corresponding  and  equal  increase  in 
the  strength  of  the  other.  Development  proceeds, 
to  use  an  expression  of  Benett's12  by  the  parallel 
growth  of  opposite  tendencies.  He  says  "there  are 
at  least  no  positive  grounds  for  an  expectation  that 
in  the  future,  any  more  than  in  the  past,  either  term 
in  the  algedonic  equation  will  gain  permanently  on 
the  other."  Perhaps  the  best  that  can  be  done  is  as 
a  result  of  a  realisation  that  the  only  hope  of  ful- 
filment comes  by  getting  into  the  stream  of  becom- 
ing and  submitting  to  the  demands  for  activity  it 
makes  upon  us. 

12  W.  Benett:  "The  Ethical  Aspects  of  Evolution  Regarded  as  the 
Parallel  Growth  of  Opposite  Tendencies."  Oxford,  1908. 


CHAPTEE  V 
SYMBOLISM 

"Facts  are  only  stopping-places  on  the  way  to  new  ideas." 

— DION  CLAYTON  CALTHROP. 

"Real  definitions  are  a  standing  difficulty  for  all  who  have  to  deal 
with  them,  whether  as  logicians  or  as  scientists,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  dialectical  philosophers  fight  very  shy  of  them,  prefer  to 
manipulate  their  verbal  imitations,  and  count  themselves  happy  if 
they  can  get  an  analysis  of  the  acquired  meaning  of  a  word  to  pass 
muster  instead  of  a  troublesome  investigation  of  the  behaviour  of  a 
thing."— F.  C.  S.  SCHILLER:  "Studies  in  Humanism." 

Symbolism  is  commonly  thought  of  as  a  form  of 
artistic  expression — as  belonging  in  the  domains  of 
religion,  art,  and  poetry.  The  most  casual  examina- 
tion of  expressions  in  current  use  will,  however,  show 
that  it  is  by  no  means  exceptional.1  The  oak  sug- 
gests sturdiness,  ruggedness  and  strength  of  char- 
acter and  has  limbs,  trunk  and  a  heart.  And  so  we 
speak  of  persons  of  rugged  character,  dependability 
and  strength  of  purpose  as  having  hearts  of  oak. 
The  foliage  of  spring  symbolises  inexperience  (ver- 
dancy), that  of  fall,  age  (the  sear  and  yellow  leaf). 
The  stone  is  hard,  flint  a  very  hard  stone  is  often 
used  to  symbolise  a  character  trait — heart  of  flint. 

i  These  illustrations  are  taken,  for  the  most  part,  from  the  chap- 
ter "Symbolism  in  Sanity  and  Insanity"  in  Burr's  "Handbook  of 
Psychology  and  Mental  Disease." 

76 


SYMBOLISM  77 

The  river  and  the  cave  have  a  mouth,  the  volcano 
vomits  lava,  and  the  earth  clothes  itself  in  green. 
There  are  the  lap,  the  bosom,  and  the  womb  of  na- 
ture, the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The  ship  has  a  nose, 
the  cliff  a  face,  the  hill  a  brow:  a  church,  a  proces- 
sion, a  lake,  have  each  a  head.  There  are  the  neck 
of  land,  the  jaws  of  an  instrument,  a  chest  of  tools, 
the  lip  of  scorn,  the  finger  of  destiny.  Pitchers  have 
ears,  the  sea  arms,  the  waves  a  voice,  the  mountain 
a  foot,  the  comet  a  head  and  tail,  the  potato  eyes. 
Plumbers  use  male  and  female  fittings,  nipples  and 
elbows.  Sympathy  has  breadth,  affection  depth, 
folly  height.  Sarcasm  is  pointed,  duty  calls,  happi- 
ness reigns.  Dispositions  are  sweet  or  sour,  a  bad 
joke  leaves  a  bitter  taste,  one  scents  trouble.  A  law 
is  interpreted  in  a  way  to  emasculate  it,  its  virility 
is  lost.  A  question  is  burning,  issues  are  living  or 
dead.  A  colour  is  lively,  gay,  sombre,  cold  or  warm, 
a  temperament  mercurial,  a  fact  dry.  An  idea  is 
brilliant,  a  thought  striking,  wit  scorching,  and  rep- 
artee sparkling.  Language  is  indeed  a  "fossil 
poetry. ' ' 

These  illustrations  are  sufficiently  numerous  and 
varied  to  show  that  symbolism  is  by  no  means  un- 
usual and  exceptional  but  that  it  is  both  a  common 
and  a  necessary  mode  of  expression,  in  fact  we  shall 
see  thatr  using  the  term  in  its  broadest  sense,  it  is 
universal.  For  what  after  all  is  a  word  but  the 
symbol  of  an  idea  and  an  idea  but  the  symbol  of  a 
thing. 

In  order  that  the  meaning  of  symbolism  may  be 


78  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

understood,  in  the  broad  sense  in  which  it  is  here 
used,  it  is  essential  to  keep  in  mind  the  nature  of  the 
relation  between  the  process  of  thinking  and  the 
forms  which  are  used  in  expressing  that  process. 
The  process  is  one  of  continuous  unremitting  change 
— the  forms  of  expression  are  the  results  of  efforts 
to  catch  the  process  in  the  very  act  of  becoming,  they 
are  snap  shots  which  try  to  fix  the  process  in  forms 
that  can  be  read.  The  distinction  between  process 
and  forms  of  expression  is  the  distinction  between 
dynamic  and  static.  Concepts  and  the  words  used 
to  express  them,  like  a  marine  painting  of  the  storm- 
tossed,  wind-driven  waves,  lack  the  essential  element 
of  the  process,  motion.  Forms  of  thought  and  lan- 
guage must  fix,  clot,  coagulate  the  process  in  the  very 
act  of  expression.  Words,  forms  of  expression,  con- 
cepts are  but  rigid  forms  which  are  never  fully  equal 
to  accurate  expression.  The  ever  changing,  ever 
growing  process  which  gives  them  birth  is  always 
straining  at  the  limitations  they  impose  and  even 
though  it  may  not  change  their  outward  form  it  con- 
stantly forces  them  to  assume  new  meanings. 

This  constant  pressure  upon  the  form  by  the  ever 
swelling  process  contained  within  it  produces  a  re- 
sult which  is  a  compromise  between  the  tendency  to 
stability,  conservatism  of  the  form,  and  the  constant 
tendency  to  change,  the  fluidity  of  the  meaning.  It  is 
perhaps  best  shown  in  the  varying  changes  of  both 
form  and  meaning  of  words.2  For  example : 

2  Language  has  been  called  by  Jean  Paul  "a  dictionary  of  faded 
metaphors." 


SYMBOLISM  79 

"The  Holy  Ghost  is  symbolised  in  Christianity  by 
a  Dove,  and  the  Hebrew  for  dove  is  jonah.  The 
jon  of  jonah  reappears  in  the  English  and  French 
pigeon,  a  word  resolving  into  pi  ja  on,  the  '  Father  of 
the  Everlasting  One.'  The  Celtic  names  for  a  pigeon 
are  dube,  'the  brilliant  orb,'  and  Mom,  i.e.,  ok  el  om, 
1  Great  Lord  the  Sun. '  At  the  Baptism  of  Christ  the 
Heavens  are  said  to  have  opened  and  a  Dove  or 
Pigeon  to  have  descended  to  the  words,  'This  is  my 
beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased. '  Pi  or  pa, 
the  Father,  is  the  root  of  pity,  peace,  patience,  and 
of  the  names  PAUL,  PAULUS,  etc.  The  two  syllables 
of  PAUL  coalesce  frequently  into  POL,  whence  POL- 
LOCK, POLSOM,  POLLY,  POLDI,  etc.,  and  innumerable 
place-names,  such  as  POLDHU,  or  BALDHU,  POLTON 
and  BOLTOST,  POLPEKEO,  and  BELPUE.  POL  was  a  title 
of  BALDUR,  the  APOLLO  of  Scandinavia,  and  BALDUE 
seemingly  once  meant  the  'enduring  BALL'  or  the 
'  enduring  BAAL.  '  The  Eastern  BALL  may  be  equated 
with  the  Druidic  BEAL,  which,  according  to  Celtic 
antiquaries,  means  'the  life  of  everything'  or  'the 
source  of  all  beings.'  Pais,  i.e.,  the  'essence  of  the 
Father,'  is  the  Greek  for  son,  and  paour,  again  the 
'light  of  the  Father,'  is  Celtic  for  son.  Pa  ur, 
the  Father  of  Light,  is  the  origin  of  power,  which  in 
French  is  puissance,  the  light  or  essence  of  PA.  The 
Celtic  for  spirit  is  poell,  and  poele  is  the  French  for 
stove;  German,  stube.  Even  to-day  in  Japan  the 
domestic  cooking-furnace  is  considered  as  a  deity. 
Patriarch  must  originally  have  been  pater-arch,  and 
meant  Great  Father.  The  patron  saint  of  Ireland 


80  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

is  presumably  a  corrupted  form  of  PATBEICK,  the 
Great  Father,  and  the  shamrock  or  clover  leaf  may 
be  regarded  as  the  threefold  symbol  of  ac  lover,  the 
Great  Lover. ' ' 3 

We  find  the  same  thing  with  respect  to  concepts ; 
although  the  same  form  of  word  has  continued  to  be 
used  to  express  them  the  idea  back  of  the  word  has 
continuously  changed.  Take  for  example  the  word 
1 '  mercury. ' '  The  alchemists  believed  mercury  to  be 
contained  in  all  metals,  it  was  the  metallic  principle, 
and  to  its  presence  were  attributed  such  properties 
as  fusibility,  malleability  and  lustre.4 

We  still  use  the  word  mercury,  but  what  a  multi- 
tude of  changes  in  meaning  has  it  been  used  to  ex- 
press since  the  days  of  alchemy ! 

If  we  consider  a  complex  concept  such  as  modesty 
we  find  that  not  only  has  the  meaning  changed  con- 
stantly but  that  the  expression  means  different 
things  to  different  peoples.  From  the  almost  or 
quite  complete  nakedness  of  certain  savages  to  the 
complicated  clothing  of  our  present-day  civilisation 
the  change  has  been  great  indeed,  while  it  is  only 
necessary  to  mention  that  the  Bakairi  of  Central 
Brazil  although  they  have  no  sense  of  shame  at 
nakedness  are  ashamed  to  eat  in  public.5 

We  can  see  this  operation  actually  going  on  under 

3  Harold  Bayley:  "The  Lost  Language  of  Symbolism— An  Inquiry 
into  the  Origin  of  Certain  Letters,  Words,  Names,  Fairy-Tales, 
Folklore  and  Mythologies."  2  Vols.  T.  B.  Lippincott  Company. 
1913. 

*H.  Stanley  Kedgrove:    "Alchemy:    Ancient  and  Modern." 
sHavelock  Ellis:   "Studies  in  the  Psychology  of  Sex."    Vol.  II, 


SYMBOLISM  81 

our  very  eyes  in  our  courts  of  law,  which  are  ever 
occupied  with  trying  to  fit  actual  living  things  into 
rigid,  dead  forms,  to  crowd  human  beings  into  the 
prescribed  limits  of  set  words  and  phrases:  a  task 
as  impossible  as  that  of  the  Danaides.  Schroeder 
has  interestingly  shown  the  changes  which  legal  in- 
terpretation has  rung  upon  the  concepts  " obscene" 
and  " freedom  of  the  press."6 

These  illustrations  suffice  to  show  that  symbolism, 
still  using  the  term  in  the  broadest  sense,  is  universal 
because  grounded  in  the  very  necessities  of  the  forms 
of  expression  themselves.  The  next  inquiry  is  nat- 
urally into  the  various  ways  in  which  symbolism 
comes  to  expression — the  principles  which  govern  it, 
the  laws  which  control  its  manifestations. 

The  fundamental  principle  of  symbolism  is  that 
anything  may  symbolise  anything  else  and  in  a  given 
instance  the  only  way  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  a 
symbol  is  to  make  inquiry  of  the  subject  expressing 
it.  The  psychologist  cannot  tell  off  hand  what  a 
given  symbol  may  mean  in  a  particular  instance.  It 
may  mean  one  thing  at  one  time  and  another  thing 
at  another  time,  it  may  mean  one  thing  to  one  person 
and  another  thing  to  another  person;  it  may  or  it 
may  not  have  the  usual  significance. 

The  next  important  principle  is  self  evident.     The 

The  Evolution  of  Modesty.  F.  A.  Davis  Company,  Philadelphia, 
1909. 

e Theodore  Schroeder:  "'Obscene'  Literature  and  Constitutional 
Law.  A  Forensic  Defense  of  Freedom  of  the  Press."  New  York, 
1911. 


82  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

symbol  must  be  chosen  from  the  mental  content. 
When  one,  so  to  speak,  is  looking  about  for  an  ap- 
propriate symbol  he  is  limited  in  his  choice  to  the 
content  of  his  own  mind.  Perhaps  no  one  who  reads 
these  pages  would  symbolise  his  thoughts  in  Sanskrit 
because  probably  they  do  not  know  that  language. 
English  symbols  would  be  most  frequently,  although 
perhaps  not  exclusively  used. 

Not  only  may  a  given  symbol  mean  one  thing  one 
time  and  another  thing  another  time,  but  the  same 
symbol  may  be  used  by  different  persons  in  quite  dif- 
ferent ways.  If  several  persons  will  look  at  a  ra- 
diator, for  example,  they  will  probably  treat  that 
radiator  differently  in  their  thoughts,  depending  on 
their  previous  experiences.  One  may  be  reminded 
of  the  rise  of  temperature  in  a  fever,  another  may 
think  of  the  steam  and  the  steam  call  up  an  ocean 
voyage  on  a  steamship  with  all  the  complex  asso- 
ciations of  that  voyage,  another  may  think  of  the 
warmth  of  friendship,  another  of  efficiency,  as  ex- 
pressing the  work  of  the  radiator,  while  still  another 
may  be  reminded  by  the  corrugations  of  the  corru- 
gated paper  about  a  book  recently  received  from  the 
publishers,  its  contents,  etc.  The  possibilities  are 
endless. 

And  finally  the  manifestness  of  the  symbolism  is 
in  direct  proportion  to  the  poverty  of  the  appercep- 
tive  mass  and  the  consequent  concreteness  of  expres- 
sion. Darwin  records  the  instance  7  of  a  child,  who, 
seeing  a  duck  on  the  water,  called  it  "quack." 

7  Cited   by    Beaurian :    Ueber    das   Symbol   und    die    psychischen 


SYMBOLISM  83 

From  this  on  he  called  all  flying  things  " quack," 
birds,  insects,  especially  house  flies  and  also  fluids, 
water  and  wine.  Finally  when  a  sou  was  shown  him 
he  called  this  also  '  *  quack. "  ' '  Quack ' '  thus  came  to 
mean  such  different  things  as  flies,  wine,  and  coins. 
The  word  "quack"  was  used  originally  to  express 
the  duck  on  the  water,  so  it  comes  to  be  applied  to 
all  flying  things  and  to  all  liquids.  When  the  word 
is  extended  to  include  coins  it  is  not  because  of  a  con- 
ceptual generalisation,  but  as  the  result  of  an  asso- 
ciative transference  due  to  the  figure  of  the  eagle  on 
the  coin  which  is  already  known  as  "quack."  Be- 
cause the  field  of  perception  of  the  child 's  conscious- 
ness is  very  narrow,  all  of  the  characteristics  of  an 
object  are  not  fully  apperceived  so  that  single  char- 
acteristics, partial  perceptions,  are  possible  and  ap- 
pear in  the  perceptual  complex  while  other  charac- 
teristics are  excluded.  Thus  the  thinking  tends  to 
relative  concreteness. 

This  concrete  way  of  thinking  is  further  illus- 
trated8 by  using  a  new  name  to  express  a  certain 
characteristic  of  an  object.  Thus  the  Arab  needs 
not  less  than  500  names  for  lion  to  express  his  differ- 
ent qualities,  200  names  for  snake,  and  5,744  for 
camel.  Similarly  the  Australian  has  one  name  for  a 
dog's  tail,  another  for  a  cow's  tail,  and  still  another 
for  a  sheep's  tail,  but  no  name  for  tail  in  general. 
"All  trees  but  no  forest." 

Bedingungen  filr  sein  Entstehen  beim  Kinde.     Int.  Zeitschr.  f.  JLrzt- 
liche  Psychoan.,  Vol.  I,  p.  431. 
s  Cited  by  Beaurain,  op.  cit. 


84  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  logical  function,  the  power  of  abstraction 
needs  a  long  time  for  its  development.  The  abstrac- 
tion of  characters  from  objects  is  a  difficult  process 
and  so  adjectives  are  late  in  making  their  appearance 
in  speech.  In  the  language  of  the  Tasmanians  there 
are  no  adjectives,9  only  substitutions  by  means  of 
concrete  ideas.  They  say  "like  a  stone"  instead  of 
using  the  adjective  "hard,"  "like  a  foot"  means 
"long,"  "like  a  ball"  or  "like  the  moon"  means 
round. 

As  primitive  man  or  the  child  develops  and  the 
apperceptive  mass  is  constantly  increased,  as 
"quack"  for  example  progressively  fails  to  express 
all  flying  things,  liquids,  and  coins  because  the  mind 
has  come  to  group  these  things  upon  the  basis  of 
similarities  and  differences  to  which  the  "quack"  of 
the  duck  no  longer  applies,  the  forms  of  expression 
will  either  change  or  acquire  new  meanings,  and  if 
the  latter  the  original  reason  for  the  expression 
will  gradually  slip  out  of  consciousness,  because  it 
no  longer  corresponds  to  the  way  of  thinking — it  is 
no  longer  useful.  We  have  already  illustrated  this 
process  in  the  changes  in  form  and  meaning  of  words. 
It  is  well  seen  also  in  the  gradual  abridgement  of 
ceremonials.  Mr.  Spencer 10  traces  obeisances  as 
originating  as  signs  of  submission  to  a  conqueror  and 
developing  along  divergent  lines  until  they  acquire 
political  and  ecclesiastical  significance.  The  earliest 

»  Cited  by  Beaurain,  op.  tit. 

10 Herbert  Spencer:  "Synthetic  Philosophy."  Principles  of  Soci- 
ology. Vol.  II,  Chap.  VI,  Obeisances. 


SYMBOLISM  85 

form  was  a  full  length  prostration  implying  complete 
submission  because  complete  defencelessness.  This 
became  successively  abridged  to  kneeling  with  the 
head  on  the  ground,  kneeling  on  both  knees.  By 
successive  abridgements  there  follow  descent  on  one 
knee,  then  simply  a  bending  of  the  knees,  and  lastly 
a  simple  nod  of  the  head.  This  latter,  a  simple  nod 
of  the  head,  with  a  slight  bending  of  the  upper  part 
of  the  body,  persists  in  the  Episcopal  Church  to-day 
when  the  name  of  Christ  is  mentioned. 

The  following  is  an  excellent  example  in  the  realm 
of  magic.  "Even  in  its  own  development,  however, 
magic  contains  some  conditions  of  its  own  decline. 
Custom,  whilst  it  maintains  a  practice,  dispenses 
with  its  meaning,  and  slurs  or  corrupts  the  expres- 
sion of  it.  Professor  Westermarck  has  shown  how 
in  Morocco  the  full  rite  to  avert  the  evil-eye  is  to 
thrust  forward  the  hand  with  the  fingers  outspread, 
and  to  say — 'Five  in  your  eye.'  But  as  this  is  too 
insulting  for  common  use,  you  may  instead  casually 
mention  the  number  five ;  or  if  even  that  is  too  plain, 
you  may  bring  in  the  word  Thursday,  which  happens 
to  be  the  fifth  day  of  the  week.  It  is  obvious  that  in 
this  process  there  is  great  risk  of  forgetting  the 
original  meaning  of  the  spell ;  and  when  this  happens 
we  have  complete  retrogradation ;  in  which  condition 
are  the  current  superstitions  about  'thirteen,'  'Fri- 
day,' 'spilling  the  salt,'  'walking  under  the  ladder,' 
for  hardly  a  soul  knows  what  they  mean."  n 

11  Carveth  Read :  The  Psychology  of  Magic.  British  Jour.  Psych. 
Vol.  VII,  No.  2,  September,  1914. 


86  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  persistence  of  old  forms,  the  original  uses  of 
which  have  disappeared,  is  well  seen  in  the  evolution 
of  the  implements  of  primitive  man.  Many  of  the 
stone  implements  were  fastened  into  handles  by 
divers  methods  of  lashing  which  tended  to  become 
fixed  in  more  or  less  symmetrical  patterns.  As  the 
stone  spear  points  were  replaced  by  bronze  and  dur- 
ing the  evolution  of  the  palstave,  or  socketed  bronze 
celt  from  the  flat  bronze  celt,  the  method  of  fastening 
also  changed.  But  the  old  style  of  binding  had  ef- 
fected such  firm  associations  that  it  was  engraved 
as  a  pattern  on  the  socket  of  the  bronze  head.12 

Haddon 13  very  well  sums  up  the  changes  that  take 
place  in  the  life-history  of  pictorial  symbols  as  fol- 
lows: 

"  First,  it  is  simply  a  representation  of  an  object 
or  a  phenomenon,  that  is,  a  pictograph.  Thus  the 
zigzag  was  the  mark  or  sign  of  lightning. 

' '  Secondly, '  the  sign  of  the  concrete  grew  to  be  the 
symbol  of  the  abstract.  The  zigzag  of  lightning,  for 
example,  became  the  emblem  of  power,  as  in  the 
thunder-bolts  grasped  by  Jupiter;  or  it  stood  alone 
for  the  supreme  God;  and  thus  the  sign  developed 
into  the  ideograph.  > 14 

"Thirdly,  retrogression  set  in  when  new  religions 
and  new  ideas  had  sapped  the  vitality  of  the  old  con- 

12  Alfred  O.  Haddon:  "Evolution  in  Art:  As  illustrated  by  the 
Life-Histories  of  Designs."  Con.  Sci.  Se.,  New  York,  Chas.  Scrib- 
ner's  Sons,  1910. 

is  Op.  cit. 

i*H.  Colley  March:  "The  Fylfot  and  the  Futhorc  Tir,"  Trans. 
Lancashire  and  Cheshire  Ant.  Soc.,  1886.  Cited  by  Haddon,  op.  cit. 


SYMBOLISM  87 

ceptions,  and  the  ideograph  came  to  have  no  more 
than  a  mystical  meaning.  A  religious  or  sacred 
savour,  so  to  speak,  still  clung  about  it,  but  it  was 
not  a  living  force  within  it ;  the  difference  is  as  great 
as  between  the  dried  petals  of  a  rose  and  the  bloom- 
ing flower  itself.  'The  zigzag,  for  instance,  was  no 
longer  used  as  a  symbol  of  the  deity,  but  was  applied 
auspiciously,  or  as  we  should  say,  for  luck.' 15 

"The  last  stage  is  reached  when  a  sign  ceases  to 
have  even  a  mystical  or  auspicious  significance,  and 
is  applied  to  an  object  as  a  merely  ornamental 
device." 

SYMBOLISM   AND   THE   UNCONSCIOUS 

I  have  already  set  forth  in  a  former  chapter  16  the 
distinction  between  the  fore-conscious  and  the  un- 
conscious. As  I  have  there  stated,  the  fore-con- 
scious, while  it  might  as  well  be  conscious,  might  also 
as  well  be  present.  The  unconscious  is  our  historical 
past. 

Ideas  of  the  fore-conscious  when  they  do  come  into 
consciousness  do  so  without  resistance  and  are  fully 
recognised  at  their  true  value.  For  example,  if  to- 
day is  Tuesday,  that  fact  until  reinforced  was  too 
weak  to  come  into  consciousness,  but  when  it  does 
come  makes  no  disturbance  and  is  fully  understood. 
It  is  the  same  with  the  symbolism.  The  symbols  of 
the  fore-conscious  can  be  relatively  easily  read  even 
when  their  meaning,  from  their  statement  simply, 

is  H.  Colley  March,  op.  tit. 
i«Chap.  III. 


88  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

is  not  at  once  evident.  A  patient  dreamed  that  she 
was  in  a  boat  upon  a  river  going  with  the  stream 
and  went  on  to  explain  that  the  river  was  the  great 
life-giving  force — it  was  the  river  of  life.  Such 
ideas  are  ideas  that  might  as  well  be  conscious. 

Another  subject  dreamed  of  the  death  of  an  old 
lady  living  next  door.  The  old  lady  was  a  surrogate 
for  the  dreamer's  mother,  who  for  many  years  had 
suffered  from  a  psychosis.  Here  the  symbolism  com- 
pletely disguises  the  underlying  idea  from  the 
dreamer.  A  great  deal  of  energy  is  expended  in 
bringing  about  this  disguise  and  the  idea,  as  a  re- 
sult, is  successfully  kept  out  of  consciousness.  The 
dreamer  had  no  idea  what  the  dream  meant  and  no 
amount  of  questioning  could  possibly  have  elicited 
any  explanation.  The  type  of  symbolism,  therefore, 
is  different  for  those  ideas  that  might  as  well  be  con- 
scious and  those  ideas,  or  rather  trends,  that  are 
unconscious. 

The  distinction  here  is  the  same  as  between  the 
fore-conscious  and  the  unconscious,  but  we  will  see 
that  another  element  has  entered.  In  the  dream  of 
being  in  a  boat  on  the  river  of  life  the  ideas  come 
readily  into  consciousness,  there  are  no  resistances 
to  be  overcome,  there  is  no  force  operating  to  prevent 
them  from  being  realised.  In  the  dream  of  the  death 
of  the  old  lady,  however,  it  is  quite  different.  This 
dream  indicates  a  wish  for  the  death  of  the  mother. 
Here  is  an  idea  against  which  all  the  forces  that  have 
been  developed  by  civilisation  and  culture  rebel. 
Great  energy  is  expended  to  prevent  this  idea  from 


SYMBOLISM  89 

becoming  conscious,  and  so  the  symbolism  distorts 
and  disguises  it  so  completely  that  it  was  not  recog- 
nised by  the  dreamer  who,  as  a  matter  of  fact  told  it 
laughingly  and  without  the  slightest  suspicion  of  its 
real  meaning.  The  disguise  here  is  intended  to  con- 
ceal the  idea  from  the  subject  and  it  is  only  by  psy- 
choanalytic methods  that  we  can  reach  an  under- 
standing of  its  meaning,  a  meaning  which  was  at 
once  suggested  by  the  fact  that  the  dreamer's  mother 
had  been  mentally  invalided  for  years.  This  fact, 
coupled  with  what  we  know  of  the  infantile  attitude 
towards  the  parents,  makes  the  meaning  at  once 
clear. 

The  unconscious  in  its  anti-social  and  unconven- 
tional tendencies  can  only  express  itself  in  conscious- 
ness under  the  form  of  a  symbolism,  which  at  the 
same  time  effectually  disguises  the  real  meaning. 
It  is,  again,  infantile  in  origin  and  represents  the 
pleasure-pain  motive  for  conduct  as  against  the 
reality  motive  that  comes  to  play  a  part  of  ever  in- 
creasing importance  as  we  grow  older,  and,  as  a 
race,  more  civilised.  The  interplay  of  these  two 
motives  and  the  resulting  compromise  is  the  source 
of  the  symbolism  and  all  such  symbolism  seems  to  be 
without  meaning,  or  to  have  a  meaning  other  than  its 
real  one,  to  the  subject. 

Conscious  thinking  is  a  function  which  has  as  its 
object  to  cut  into  the  facts  of  reality — to  adapt  the 
individual  to  his  environment  by  such  a  knowledge 
of  reality  as  will  enable  him  to  effectively  orient 
himself  towards  the  real.  We  all  wish  for  certain 


90  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

things.  Primitive  man  and  the  child  proceed,  much 
more  directly  to  the  goal  of  their  wishes  than  we  do. 
If  we  want  money,  for  example,  the  simplest  way  to 
get  it  is  to  take  it.  We  have  learned,  however,  that 
the  existence  of  society  demands  that  we  can  only 
take  it  in  certain  ways — as  a  reward  for  labour.  If 
we  attempt  to  get  it  otherwise  we  run  counter  to  so- 
ciety, which  proceeds  to  punish  us  accordingly,  and 
so  we  learn  to  adapt  ourselves  to  the  necessities  of 
the  situation.  The  unconscious — the  primitive  and 
infantile  mental  rests — knows  no  such  restraints,  it 
would  go  direct  to  the  goal,  but  by  so  doing  would 
offend  mortally  that  within  us  which  has  been  built 
up  by  civilisation.  Its  demands  may  thus  be  anti- 
social and  offensive  to  our  conscious  personality  and 
then  it  can  only  play  its  part  upon  the  stage  under 
sufficient  disguise  not  to  be  recognised.  This  dis- 
guise is  the  symbolism — a  symbolism  unrecognisable 
to  the  subject  and  so  a  means  of  defence,  protecting 
him  from  a  realisation  that  would  be  painful. 

The  content  of  the  unconscious,  being  essentially 
affective  in  nature — trends,  tendencies,  feelings, — 
can  only  receive  expression  in  consciousness,  which 
is  preponderantly  conceptual  and  ideational  in  con- 
tent, by  a  species  of  translation  whereby  the  feeling 
qualities  are  expressed  concretely.  As  the  content 
of  the  unconscious  is  also  composed  of  ways  of  think- 
ing and  feeling  which  have  been  discarded,  left  be- 
hind in  the  development  of  the  personality,  such 
translated  expressions  are  not  understood  by  con- 
sciousness when  they  do  appear.  The  unconscious 


SYMBOLISM  91 

is  relatively  infantile  and  as  the  infantile  is  not  use- 
ful to  assist  in  adult  adaptations,  but  is  in  fact  a 
hindrance,  its  outcrop  is  not  understood  and  if  its 
suggestions  are  followed  they  lead  to  disaster.  This 
repression  of  our  past  is  a  purely  pragmatic  affair 
to  assist  us  in  making  new  adaptations.17  It  is  for 
the  purpose,  as  Mr.  Benjamin  Kidd  would  say,  of 
"projected  efficiency"  by  the  elimination  of  what 
would  interfere  with  future  adaptations.18 

This  symbolism  of  the  unconscious  is  the  only 
symbolism  in  which  the  psychoanalyst  is  primarily 
interested  and  Ferenczi 19  would  restrict  the  use  of 
the  word  symbol  altogether  to  those  symbols  as  get 
in  consciousness  a  logically  confused  and  ungrounded 
affect,  which  affective  over-emphasis  is  due  to  an  un- 
conscious identification  with  something  else  to  which 
that  affect  really  belongs.  For  him  not  all  likenesses 
are  symbols  but  only  those  that  have  one  member  of 
the  equation  repressed  in  the  unconscious. 

The  disguise  is  the  greater  the  farther  the  indi- 

17  "The  cerebral  mechanism  is  arranged  just  so  as  to  drive  back 
into  the  unconscious  almost  the  whole  of  this  past,  and  to  admit 
beyond  the  threshold  only  that  which  can  cast  light  on  the  present 
situation  or  further  the  action  now  being  prepared — in  short,  only 
that  which  can  give  useful  work."  (Bergson:  "Creative  Evolu- 
tion.") "We  trail  behind  us,  unawares,  the  whole  of  our  past;  but 
our  memory  pours  into  the  present  only  the  odd  recollection  or 
two  that  in  some  way  completes  our  present  situation."  (Bergson, 
op.  cit.) 

is  Cited  by  T.  W.  Mitchell:  R6le  of  Repression  in  Forgetting. 
British  Jour.  Psych.,  Vol.  VII,  No.  2,  September,  1914. 

19  S.  Ferenczi :  Zur  Ontogenese  der  Symbole.  Int.  Zeit.  f. 
Aerztliche  Psychoan.,  Vol.  I,  p.  436. 


92  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

vidual  has  advanced  on  the  path  of  cultural  develop- 
ment, the  greater  and  the  deeper  the  mass  of  ma- 
terial that  overlies  the  simple  primitive  instincts. 
The  difficulty  of  interpreting  the  symbolism,  which 
expresses  the  naive  wishes  of  the  unconscious,  in- 
creases proportionately  to  the  distance  which  sepa- 
rates the  conscious  from  the  unconscious  way  of 
thinking.20 

The  unconscious,  while  in  a  sense  strictly  logical, 
is  nevertheless  quite  uncritical.  The  finer  relational 
distinctions  belong  only  to  the  higher  type  of  con- 
scious thinking.  So  in  the  unconscious,  the  simplest 
analogies  stand  easily  for  identities.  Here  we  see 
then  that  reasoning,  as  we  know  it,  does  not  enter  at 
all,  but  just  a  play  of  crude  analogies  which  are 
dramatised  into  an  expression  of  wish-fulfilment. 
We  are,  therefore,  quite  prepared  to  find  mother, 
wife,  daughter  used  interchangeably  in  the  symbol- 
ism of  the  unconscious,  the  one  easily  taking  the 
place  of  and  being  interchangeable  with  the  other. 
This  is  well  shown  in  a  case  reported  by  MacCurdy.21 
Here  the  patient  identified  the  child  with  the  mother 

20  Of   course  the   distinction   between   conscious   and   unconscious 
must  not  be  thought  of  as  definite  and  clear  cut.     Clear  cut  dis- 
tinctions do  not  occur  in  nature.     The  growth  of  a  conscious,  re- 
lational  way   of   thinking   has   been   slow — a   gradual   development 
from   a   way   of  thinking  that   was   affective;    and   so   there   must 
naturally  exist  intermediate  forms  in  which  the  two  ways  of  think- 
ing exist  in  varying  proportions. 

21  John   T.   MacCurdy:    The   Productions   in   a   Manic-Like   State 
Illustrating  Freudian  Mechanisms.     N.  Y.  State  Hospitals  Bulletin, 

1913 

.OC! 


SYMBOLISM  93 

and  later  represented  the  mother  as  the  offspring  of 
the  child.  In  his  phantasies  he  first  married  his 
mother,  then  himself,  and  finally  his  mother  again 
as  his  own  daughter.  He  changed  into  a  woman, 
gave  birth  to  a  child  and  then  was  himself  that  child. 
His  father  is  his  wife's  husband,  etc. 

All  these  changes,  which  so  outrage  our  developed 
way  of  looking  at  things,  can  be  understood  when  we 
realise  that  their  motivating  force  is  the  unconscious 
and  that  the  unconscious  way  of  thinking  is  rela- 
tively infantile  and  affective.  The  child  has  not 
come  to  a  comparative,  relational  way  of  thinking  of 
the  people  who  surround  it.  Its  libido,  its  love  goes 
out  at  first  indifferently  to  the  several  people  it 
comes  in  contact  with,  becoming  finally  more  closely 
associated  with  those  who  stand  in  the  closest  rela- 
tions to  it,  who  are  more  frequently  and  for  a  longer 
time  present,  and  who  serve  it  best  by  helping  bring 
its  wishes  to  gratification. 

When,  in  addition,  we  also  bear  in  mind  the  energic 
concept  of  libido,  when  we  realise  that  it  is  energy 
which  becomes  fixed  now  upon  this  now  upon  that 
person  or  thing  as  the  field  of  interest  moves  here 
and  there,  we  can  realise  how  the  love  that  goes  in- 
differently to  the  mother,  the  father,  the  sister,  may 
with  equal  indifference  be  symbolised  by  the  one  as 
by  the  other. 

This  explanation  also  gives  the  key  to  many  other 
of  the  very  nai've  analogies  which  are  sufficient  for 
purposes  of  identification.  Among  the  Saxons  of 


94  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

Transylvania22  when  a  woman  is  in  labor  all  the 
knots  of  her  garments  are  untied  and  all  locks  on 
doors  or  boxes  are  unlocked  in  the  belief  that  by  so 
doing  her  delivery  will  be  facilitated.  Here  the 
libido,  let  us  for  the  moment  call  it  the  interest,  is 
centred  upon  the  ease  of  delivery  which  will,  of 
course,  be  facilitated  by  removing  obstructions. 
Therefore  everything  is  opened,  obstructions  are  re- 
moved, knots  are  untied,  labor  will  therefore  be 
easy.  Accept  the  analogy,  remember  that  the  sym- 
bols are  symbols  of  that  particular  portion  of  the 
libido  of  the  individual  concerned  with  the  desire 
to  remove  obstructions,  and  the  conclusions  are 
rigidly  logical.  The  comparing  of  an  obstruction  in 
a  string  by  a  knot  and  an  obstruction  in  the  birth 
passage  belongs  to  a  higher  type  of  thinking  and  so 
cannot  enter  here.  We  must  not  therefore  criticise 
the  results  by  this  higher  standard.  The  reasoning 
is  understandable,  may  we  not  even  say  correct,  so 
long  as  we  remain  at  the  lower  level. 

This  facile  substitution  of  one  person  or  thing  for 
another  with  which  it  has  but  the  faintest  resem- 
blance shows  us  the  mind  operating  free  from  intel- 
lectual critique,  stripped  of  all  comparative  and  re- 
lational ways  of  thinking,  guided  along  by  feeling 
qualities.  Are  not  its  results  quite  as  logical,  quite 
as  understandable,  as  long  as  we  remain  at  the  feel- 
ing level?  In  fact  has  it  not  a  special  validity  of  its 
own  quite  apart  from  the  criteria  of  intelligence? 

22  J.  G.  Frazer:  "The  Golden  Bough"  (3d  ed.),  Part  II.  Taboo 
and  the  Perils  of  the  Soul,  p.  294. 


SYMBOLISM  95 

By  means  of  our  feelings  do  we  not  more  nearly  suc- 
ceed in  ''attaching  ourselves  to  the  inner  becoming 
of  things,"23  rather  than  "place  ourselves  outside 
them."  Is  there  not  here  a  distinction  between  in- 
tuition and  intellect  ?  such  as  Bergson  makes  when  he 
says,24  ''Intelligence  remains  the  luminous  nucleus 
around  which  instinct,  even  enlarged  and  purified 
into  intuition,  forms  only  a  vague  nebulosity. ' ' 

A  reaction-time  psychology  which  endeavours  to 
reach  an  understanding  of  mental  processes  solely 
from  such  surface  indications  as  the  time  interval 
between  the  reception  of  a  stimulus  and  a  given  form 
of  response  is  based  upon  a  simplistic  conception  of 
the  human  mind.  "In  reality,  the  past  is  preserved 
by  itself,  automatically.  In  its  entirety,  probably, 
it  follows  us  at  every  instant ;  all  that  we  have  felt, 
thought  and  willed  from  our  earliest  infancy  is  there, 
leaning  over  the  present  which  is  about  to  join  it, 
pressing  against  the  portals  of  consciousness  that 
would  fain  leave  it  outside.  .  .  .  Doubtless  we  think 
with  only  a  small  part  of  our  past,  but  it  is  with  our 
entire  past,  including  the  original  bent  of  our  soul, 
that  we  desire,  will  and  act.  Our  past,  then,  as  a 
whole,  is  made  manifest  to  us  in  its  impulse;  it  is 
felt  in  the  form  of  tendency,  although  a  small  part  of 
it  only  is  known  in  the  form  of  idea. ' ' 25 

Any  particular  act  is  an  end  product.  It  is  pos- 
sible only  because  of  all  that  has  gone  before.  No 

23  Bergson :   "Creative  Evolution." 

24  Ibid. 

zs  Bergson,  loc.  cit. 


96  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

thought,  no  word,  no  gesture  but  is  an  expression  of 
the  whole  individual — never  of  just  that  limited  por- 
tion which  is  present  as  conscious  idea.  Our  conduct 
is  therefore  highly  symbolic  as  expressive  of  that 
much  larger  portion  of  us,  the  unconscious,  which 
exists  as  tendency,  feeling. 

Keeping  in  mind  the  energic  conception  of  the 
libido  we  can  understand  then  that  a  symbol  is  an 
expression  of  ourselves.  The  particular  person  or 
thing  is  used  as  a  symbol  because  it  represents  our 
way  of  thinking  and  feeling  about  the  fact  it  stands 
for.  It  stands,  therefore,  for  ourselves  or  so  much 
of  ourselves  as  is  represented  in  our  feeling  attitude 
toward  the  thing  symbolised.  The  patient  who,  in  a 
dream,  symbolises  the  sexual  by  a  wild  animal  has 
not  only  made  a  symbol  for  sexuality,  but  has  also 
expressed  in  that  symbol  an  element  of  his  own  sex- 
uality which  is  recognised  as  wild. 

The  use  of  objects  and  things  in  the  environment 
as  symbols  is  a  most  common  manifestation  in  the 
psychoses.  The  "feeling  of  influence"  in  praecox 
and  the  "  delusion  of  persecution"  in  paranoid  states 
are  good  examples.  In  both  instances  the  patient 
symbolises  certain  elements  of  his  own  psyche  which 
he  recognises  as  "bad"  or  destructive,  by  persons  or 
forces  outside  of  himself  and  then  feels  their  evil 
influence  as  coming  from  those  sources.  In  this  way, 
among  other  things,  he  escapes  responsibility  for  his 
bad  thoughts  and  evil  actions.  But  if  he  escapes  re- 
sponsibility he  does  so  at  the  cost  of  the  definition 
of  his  personality. 


SYMBOLISM  97 

In  the  course  of  development  man  has  become  pro- 
gressively more  individual.  From  herding  together 
like  animals  in  groups  where  one  person  was  the 
same  as  another,  when  human  life  had  little  value, 
and  when  the  individual  felt  himself  constantly 
bound  by  all  sorts  of  mysterious  ties  to  the  natural 
objects  about  him,  he  has  developed  to  a  position  of 
sharply  denned  individuality,  in  a  group  where  the 
individual  counts  for  vastly  more,  and  far  from  feel- 
ing that  he  is  mysteriously  tied  to  the  forces  of  na- 
ture he  actually  has  dominated  those  forces. 

The  praecox  who  feels  all  sorts  of  mysterious  in- 
fluences all  about  him,  who  hears  voices  in  the  walls 
or  in  the  trees,  who  feels  electric  shocks  pass  through 
him  from  mysterious  sources,  is  more  like  primitive 
man  in  that  his  individuality  is  less  clearly  defined, 
less  clearly  differentiated.  His  personality,  by  this 
process  of  introversion  of  the  libido,  becomes  vastly 
greater  in  extent,  but  at  the  expense  of  clear  defini- 
tion, for  it  merges  in  a  misty  haze  of  indistinctness 
into  all  surrounding  nature.  This  is  the  psychologi- 
cal state  and  equivalent  of  animism. 


BaILo.fr  fttifn    --i'r 
SEXUALITY   OF   SYMBOLISM 

One  of  the  most  widespread  criticisms  of  the  whole 
psychoanalytic  movement  has  been  that  it  gave  an 
undue  importance  to  the  sexual  and  read  sexuality 
into  the  meaning  of  everything.  The  importance  of 
the  sexual,  I  think,  is  coming  to  be  generally  recog- 
nised, but  the  reason  why  such  a  large  number  of  the 


98 

symbolisms  should  have  a  sexual  meaning  I  do  not 
think  has  been  adequately  dealt  with. 

I  have  already  pointed  out 26  that  our  unconscious 
represents  our  infantile  and  primitive  moorings. 
We,  so  to  speak,  drag  it  behind  us  like  a  huge  and 
heavy  tail  which  is  always  weighing  us  down  and 
making  ascent  difficult  and  only  to  be  accomplished 
at  the  expenditure  of  great  energy — work.  But  like 
the  tail  of  a  kite  it  serves  to  steady  our  flight  and 
while  it  prevents  rapid  ascent  it  also  keeps  our  move- 
ments from  suddenly  going  off  at  tangents — it  directs 
and  guides.  Without  the  tail  the  kite  would  shoot 
wildly  first  in  this  direction,  then  in  that,  with  rapid 
changes  of  direction  at  sharp  angles.  With  the  tail 
the  kite  soars  in  gentle  curves  and  while  it  may  dip 
from  time  to  time  the  general  direction  is  maintained, 
the  end  result  is  the  attainment  of  a  higher  alti- 
tude. 

The  libido,  when  for  any  reason  it  is  dammed  up, 
when  it  no  longer  flows  freely  in  self  expression, 
tends  to  flow  backward,  to  retrace  the  path  along 
which  it  has  come.  Now  it  is  the  sexual  which  is  the 
oldest  avenue  of  libido  expression,  its  path  is  more 
deeply  channelled  than  any  other,  for  it  has  to  be 
kept  open  for  race  preservation.  The  libido  finds 
its  way  out  by  this  path  more  easily  than  by  any 
other  when  its  forward  progress  is  blocked.  Subli- 
mation only  occurs  at  the  expense  of  great  energy 
and  when  the  paths  of  sublimation  are  closed  or 
blocked  the  libido  reanimates  its  old  familiar  ways, 

26  Chap.  III. 


SYMBOLISM  99 

flows  in  the  old  channels  that  had  been  largely  or 
altogether  abandoned. 

This  phenomenon  is  precisely  what  we  see  in  the 
neuroses.  The  neurotics  are  essentially  moral  per- 
sons, their  conflicts  are  moral  conflicts,  but  they  often 
come  to  us,  nevertheless,  and  we  can  see  now  why, 
complaining  of  and  distressed  by  the  grossly  sexual 
character  of  their  thoughts.  Their  libido  has  been 
unable  to  find  its  way  out  at  higher  levels  of  self- 
expression  and  drops  back  to  lower  levels.  It  is  in- 
structive to  note  the  concretely  sexual  character  of 
a  patient's  dreams  at  the  beginning  of  an  analysis 
and  then  see  how  this  characteristic  slowly  fades 
out  as  the  analysis  progresses.  The  symbolism  of 
the  dream  becomes  progressively  more  spiritualised 
and  at  the  same  time  its  meaning  begins  to  be  ap- 
parent to  the  patient,  the  repressions  have  been  de- 
stroyed, the  drag  back  of  the  unconscious  is  less  in 
evidence,  the  dream  takes  place  at  a  higher  level,  it 
is  nearer  to  consciousness  and  therefore  to  conscious 
acceptance. 

With  this  conception  we  can  understand  too  the  bi- 
sexuality  of  sexual  symbols.  If  the  whole  is  given 
in  all  its  parts,  if  the  original  manifestations  of  the 
creative  energy,  the  libido,  contain  all  the  possibili- 
ties for  its  future  ramifications  in  various  and  divers 
forms  of  sublimation,  then  we  have  only  to  go  back 
far  enough  to  see  that  it  is  not  the  male  or  the  female 
element  alone  that  constitutes  the  problem,  but  it  is 
the  problem  of  sexuality  that  occupies  the  patient 
and  produces  the  symbolism.  The  classical  symbol 


100  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

of  the  male,  the  phallus  as  represented  by  the  ser- 
pent, we  have  only  to  analyse  deeper  to  find  in  many 
cases  at  least,  I  do  not  say  all,  has  also  a  certain 
significance  for  the  female.  This  principle  holds 
equally  whether  we  accept  the  sexual  as  the  funda- 
mental way  of  libido  expression  or  whether  we  pre- 
fer to  see  the  fundamental  in  Nietzsche's  "will  to 
power"  as  adapted  by  Adler. 

From  the  time  of  birth  on  the  libido  is  drafted  first 
in  this  direction,  then  in  that  to  serve  the  purposes 
of  development.  In  certain  directions,  particularly 
the  higher  intellectual,  it  becomes  highly  sublimated 
so  that  it  bears  little  evidence  of  its  origin.  A  cer- 
tain portion,  however,  must  remain  attached  to  dis- 
tinctly sexual  ends  for  the  purpose  of  reproduction. 

In  addition  to  the  libido  which  is  used  for  these 
purposes  every  one  has  a  certain  store  of  reserve 
energy  which  should  be  available  for  constructive 
work.  It  is  the  function  of  psychoanalysis  to  see  to 
it  that  this  energy  is  not  tied  down,  fixed  at  low 
levels,  that  it  is  free  to  be  used  in  constructive  living. 

At  the  beginning  of  analysis  this  energy  is  found 
fixed  at  lower  levels  which,  for  the  reasons  already 
given,  results  in  preoccupation  with  sexual  matters. 
As  the  analysis  proceeds  its  attachments  to  the  sex- 
ual are  loosed,  it  is  made  available  for  sublimation 
in  higher  ends,  it  becomes  spiritualised. 

In  fact,  if  we  will  look  deeply  into  the  meanings  of 
the  most  concretely  sexual  symbolisms  of  our  neu- 
rotic patients  we  will  be  able  to  read  in  them  the 
efforts  of  the  patients  to  escape  their  bondage  to  the 


SYMBOLISM  101 

sexual.  To  accuse  psychoanalysis,  therefore,  of 
dealing  too  much  with  the  sexual  is  obviously  an  un- 
informed criticism.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  analyst 
that  the  facts  of  development  are  as  they  are,  while 
as  a  matter  of  fact  the  object  of  psychoanalysis  is  to 
free  the  energy  from  its  crippling  sexual  moorings. 
Emerson27  "described  our  friends  as  those 
'who  make  us  do  what  we  can.*  We  count  on  our 
friends  to  comfort  us  with  pleasant  things;  to  ad- 
minister a  pleasant  anodyne  to  us  when  life  lays  its 
burdens  on  us.  He  summoned  them  to  awaken  us 
out  of  sleep,  to  scourge  us  if  necessary  on  the  road 
to  nobility." 

INTERPRETATION  OF  SYMBOLS 

We  have  thus  come  to  see  that  man  develops  from 
a  being  that  only  feels  to  one  that  tries  to  use  rea- 
son in  all  his  mental  operations.  Symbols,  that  is, 
expressions  or  objects  that  stand  for  something  else 
may  do  so  only  because  of  some  analogy  which  they 
have  to  that  which  they  stand  for.  The  more  patent 
the  analogy  the  less  we  are  apt  to  see  the  symbolic 
and  conversely  the  wider  the  difference  the  more 
ready  we  are  to  acknowledge  symbolism.  When 
both  terms  are  fully  conscious  all  we  see  is  a  like- 
ness, analogy,  metaphor,  parable  or  what  not. 
When  one  term  is  repressed  and  unconscious  then 
the  meaning  is  no  longer  evident,  it  is  expressed 
symbolically. 

27  Hamilton  W.  Mabie:  Emerson's  Journals.  Outlook,  Feb.  21, 
1914. 


102  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

Whether  or  not,  then,  we  see  the  symbolism  of  a 
given  expression,  for  example,  depends  upon  the 
closeness  of  analogy  between  the  sign  and  the  thing 
signified.  The  closer  the  analogy  the  less  the  sym- 
bolism and  the  less  evident  the  analogy  the  more 
pronounced  the  symbolism.  Symbolism,  therefore, 
has  to  do  with,  must  be  considered  in  connection 
with,  so-called  reasoning  by  analogy. 

Reasoning  by  analogy  is  generally  put  down  as  be- 
ing bad  reasoning.  Without  entering  at  length  into 
a  discussion  of  this  point  I  venture  the  assertion 
that  it  not  only  is  not  bad  reasoning  but  it  is  the 
basis  of  all  reasoning.  John  Fiske  well  says,28  "A 
thing  is  said  to  be  explained  when  it  is  classified  with 
other  things  with  which  we  are  already  acquainted. 
That  is  the  only  kind  of  explanation  of  which  the 
highest  science  is  capable."  Eeasoning  by  analogy 
reaches  its  perfection  in  mathematics.  When,  for  ex- 
ample, the  calculation  of  the  astronomer  as  to  the  ex- 
act location  of  a  planet  at  a  given  time  turns  out  to 
be  true  it  is  because  the  calculation  and  the  fact  have 
attained  to  a  degree  of  likeness  which  we  term 
identity.29 

28  "Myths  and  Myth-Makers." 

29  "It  is  through  the  operation  of  certain  laws  of  ideal  associa- 
tion that  all  human  thinking,  that  of  the  highest  as  well  as  that  of 
the  lowest  minds,  is  conducted:  the  discovery  of  the  law  of  gravita- 
tion, as  well  as  the  invention  of  such  a  superstition  as  the  Hand 
of  Glory,  is  at  bottom  but  a  case  of  association  of  ideas.     The  differ- 
ence between  the  scientific  and  the  mythologic  inference   consists 
solely  in  the  number  of  checks  which  in  the  former  case  combine  to 
prevent  any  other  than  the  true  conclusion  from  being  framed  into 
a  proposition  to  which  the  mind  assents.     Countless  accumulated 


SYMBOLISM  103 

The  progress  of  mental  development,  conditioned 
by  the  conflict  between  the  pleasure-pain  and  the  re- 
ality motives,  is  progressively  from  an  affective  to 
an  intellectual  control  of  conduct.  In  primitive  man 
and  the  child,  whose  conduct  is  wholly  affectively 
controlled,  the  vaguest  analogies  serve  as  identities 
which  are  subjected  in  the  course  of  development 
to  ever  increasingly  rigid  controls  out  of  which  finally 
arise  the  concepts  of  cause  and  effect  based  upon 
experimental  verification. 

The  nearer  we  approach  an  intellectually  con- 
trolled situation  the  more  individual  is  the  material 
with  which  we  must  deal,  while  the  further  we  are 

experiences  have  taught  the  modern  that  there  are  many  associa- 
tions of  ideas  which  do  not  correspond  to  any  actual  connection  of 
cause  and  effect  in  the  world  of  phenomena;  and  he  has  learned 
accordingly  to  apply  to  his  newly  framed  notions  the  rigid  test  of 
verification.  Besides  which  the  same  accumulation  of  experiences 
has  built  up  an  organised  structure  of  ideal  associations  into  which 
only  the  less  extravagant  newly  framed  notions  have  any  chance 
of  fitting.  The  primitive  man,  or  the  modern  savage  who  is  to 
some  extent  his  counterpart,  must  reason  without  the  aid  of  these 
multifarious  checks.  That  immense  mass  of  associations  which  an- 
swer to  what  are  called  physical  laws,  and  which  in  the  mind  of 
the  civilised  modern  have  become  almost  organic,  have  not  been 
formed  in  the  mind  of  the  savage;  nor  has  he  learned  the  necessity 
of  experimentally  testing  any  of  his  newly  framed  notions,  save  per- 
haps a  few  of  the  commonest.  Consequently  there  is  nothing  but 
superficial  analogy  to  guide  the  course  of  his  thought  hither  or 
thither,  and  the  conclusions  at  which  he  arrives  will  be  determined 
by  associations  of  ideas  occurring  apparently  at  haphazard.  Hence 
the  quaint  or  grotesque  fancies  with  which  European  and  barbaric 
folk-lore  is  filled,  in  the  framing  of  which  the  myth-maker  was  but 
reasoning  according  to  the  best  methods  at  his  command." — John 
Fiske:  "Myths  and  Myth-Makers." 


104  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

from  an  intellectually  controlled  situation  and  cor- 
respondingly the  nearer  to  a  completely  affectively 
controlled  one,  the  more  the  material  with  which  we 
deal  tends  to  be  the  common  possession  of  humanity. 

A  patient  dreams  of  something  happening  near 
the  corner  of  a  house.  On  the  corner  of  this  house 
the  water  and  waste  pipes  are  arranged  in  a  cer- 
tain way  that  identifies  the  house  as  his  country 
residence.  This  mental  content,  namely,  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  peculiar  arrangement  of  the  water 
and  waste  pipes  on  a  particular  house  is  his  indi- 
vidual possession.  But  when  we  see  demented  pa- 
tients of  all  nationalities  all  over  the  world,  of  both 
sexes,  of  all  social  grades,  dabbling  in  their  urine 
and  feces,  soiling  themselves  with  it,  bathing  them- 
selves in  it  and  rubbing  it  on  their  bodies,  even  drink- 
ing and  eating  it,  not  to  say  developing  more  distinct 
ceremonials,30  we  must  acknowledge  that  we  are 
dealing  with  conduct  which  is  motivated  by  factors 
which  are  a  very  long  way  from  being  individual. 
The  very  wide  distribution  of  such  conduct,  under 
certain  conditions  of  mental  disease,  would  alone  in- 
dicate that  it  was  controlled  by  factors  that  at  least 
very  closely  approached  being  racial  if  they  were 
not  actually  so. 

In  the  matter  of  interpreting  symbols  we  are  con- 
trolled by  the  same  principles.  To  see  in  baptism 
a  ceremonial  bath  in  holy  water  as  a  purification 

so  See  in  this  connection  S.  E.  Jelliffe  and  Zenia  X :  Compul- 
sion Neurosis  and  Primitive  Culture.  The  Psychoanalytic  Review, 
Vol.  I,  No.  4,  October,  1914. 


SYMBOLISM  105 

from  sin  for  which  a  state  of  mind  of  repentance 
and  remorse  is  a  necessary  precondition  is  a  valid 
interpretation  so  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  does  not  dip 
below  the  conscious  level.  This  may  be  said  of  a 
whole  host  of  interpretations  such  as  the  plan  of  the 
Gothic  Cathedral  as  the  form  of  the  cross,  the  tri- 
forium  gallery  with  its  reduplication  of  three  as  the 
Trinity,  the  Dove  as  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  spiritual 
union  with  God  in  taking  the  eucharist,  etc.  These 
are  all  superficial  interpretations. 

If  we  should  go  a  little  further,  however,  we  would 
find  an  interpretation  not  quite  so  evident,  but  yet 
a  considerable  ways  from  having  one  term  in  the 
unconscious.  For  example  Durandus  31  thus  gives 
the  significance  of  the  cement  used  in  building  a 
church. 

'  *  The  cement,  without  which  there  can  be  no  stabil- 
ity of  the  walls,  is  made  of  lime,  sand,  and  water. 
The  lime  is  fervent  charity,  which  joineth  to  itself 
the  sand,  that  is,  undertakings  for  the  temporal  wel- 
fare of  our  brethren:  because  true  charity  taketh 
care  of  the  widow  and  the  aged,  and  the  infant,  and 
the  infirm :  and  they  who  have  it  study  to  work  with 
their  hands,  that  they  may  possess  wherewith  to 
benefit  them.  Now  the  lime  and  the  sand  are  bound 
together  in  the  wall  by  an  admixture  of  water.  But 
water  is  an  emblem  of  the  Spirit.  And  as  without 
cement  the  stones  cannot  cohere,  so  neither  can  man 
be  built  up  in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  without  char- 
si  William  Durandus :  "The  Symbolism  of  Churches  and  Church 
Ornaments."  London,  Gibbings  &  Company,  1906. 


106  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ity,  which  the  Holy  Ghost  worketh  in  them.  All  the 
stones  are  polished  and  squared — that  is,  holy  and 
pure,  and  are  built  by  the  hands  of  the  Great  Work- 
man into  an  abiding  place  in  the  Church:  whereof 
some  are  borne,  and  bear  nothing,  as  the  weaker 
members:  some  are  both  borne  and  bear,  as  those 
of  moderate  strength :  and  some  bear,  and  are  borne 
of  none  save  Christ,  the  corner-stone,  as  they  that 
are  perfect.  All  are  bound  together  by  one  spirit 
of  charity,  as  though  fastened  with  cement;  and 
those  living  stones  are  knit  together  in  the  bond  of 
peace.  Christ  was  our  wall  in  His  conversation: 
and  our  outer  wall  in  His  Passion. ' ' 

This  is  an  example  of  anagogic  interpretation. 

And  finally :  A  patient  dreams  that  she  is  delayed 
in  going  to  say  good-bye  to  her  father  by  a  young 
man  whom  she  meets  on  the  way.  Analysis  shows 
that  this  young  man  stood  in  her  mind  for  the  orig- 
inal affective  state  that  bound  her  in  her  affections 
to  her  father  and  therefore  symbolises  an  incest 
phantasy  which  in  its  broader  meanings  means  that 
her  way  of  thinking,  as  symbolised  by  the  young  man, 
was  a  way  of  thinking  which  fixed  her  to  her  infan- 
tile moorings  to  the  family  and  served  to  keep  her  a 
child  and  from  going  on  in  her  development  to 
adulthood.  This  is  (very  briefly,  of  course)  a  psy- 
choanalytic interpretation  where  one  term  of  the 
symbolism,  the  fixation  on  the  father,  is  in  the  un- 
conscious. 

When  we  deal  with  the  symbolism  of  the  uncon- 
scious we  are  dealing  with  a  matter  that  is  never  in- 


SYMBOLISM  107 

dividual  and  in  the  proportion  that  we  sound  the  ul- 
timate depths  of  the  unconscious  do  we  approach  a 
symbolism  which  is  universal  in  its  meaning. 

The  more  nearly  a  symbolism  has  universal  mean- 
ing the  more  right  we  have  to  interpret  it  without 
appeal  to  the  individual  while  the  further  we  get 
from  the  depths  of  the  unconscious,  the  nearer  we 
approach  the  surface,  the  more  individualistic  do  the 
meanings  become  and  the  more  necessary  it  is  to  ap- 
peal to  the  subject  for  their  meaning. 

In  actual  work,  however,  this  appeal  to  the  indi- 
vidual is  practically  always  necessary  because,  no 
matter  how  profound  and  universal  the  meaning  may 
be,  it  is  always  clothed  in  the  individual's  personal 
experiences.  This,  of  course,  must  be  so.  The  in- 
dividual is  limited  in  the  forms  of  his  expression  by 
the  actual,  available  material  in  his  own  psyche. 

This  material,  however,  can  only  be  understood 
when  we  appreciate  that  its  source  is  the  individual's 
historical  past — the  unconscious — and  when  we  at 
the  same  time  appreciate  that  this  historical  past  is 
made  up  not  only  of  the  past  of  the  individual  but 
the  past  of  the  phylum.  In  other  words,  the  mind 
has  its  embryology  and  its  comparative  anatomy; 
its  ontogenesis  and  its  phylogenesis;  just  like  the 
body,  and  just  like  the  body,  too,  many  of  its  disor- 
ders can  only  be  understood  in  the  light  of  its  history. 

The  patient  who  patted  her  father  on  the  cheek 
and  called  herself  his  mother  and  him  "her  little 
David"  was  thinking  in  a  wholly  infantile  way,  while 
the  patient  who  says,  "I  am  both  male  and  female 


108  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

in  sex,  with  one  mind  and  body  controlling  both,  I 
have  to  be  one  to  be  the  father  and  creator  of  the 
various  races  and  elements  of  the  human  organisa- 
tion," is  expressing  ideas  that  hark  back  to  ways  of 
thinking  that  are  older  than  the  individual — he  is 
expressing  archaic  delusions.  This  latter  patient,  in 
this  utterance,  reminds  one  of  the  Arddha  Nari  in- 
carnation of  Brahma  who  in  the  act  of  creation  be- 
came both  male  and  female.  "The  Supreme  Spirit 
in  the  act  of  creation  became,  by  Voga,  two-fold,  the 
right  side  was  male,  the  left  was  Prakriti.  She  is 
of  one  form  with  Brahma.  She  is  Maya,  eternal  and 
imperishable,  such  as  the  Spirit,  such  is  the  inherent 
energy  (The  Sacti),  as  the  faculty  of  burning  is  in- 
herent in  fire." — Brahma  Vaivartta  Puranu,  Pro- 
fessor Wilson.32 

THE  PHYLOGENETIC  MEANING  AND  THE  ENEKGIC  VALUE 
OF   THE   SYMBOL 

Ferenczi  's  use  of  the  term  symbol  to  apply  to  like- 
nesses that  have  one  member  of  the  equation  re- 
pressed in  the  unconscious  is  purely  pragmatic  and 
for  psychoanalytic  purposes  only.  The  whole  sub- 
ject of  symbolism  and  the  meaning  of  symbols  would 
be  very  greatly  and  artificially  contracted  by  such 
a  viewpoint.  To  see  the  real  breadth  and  sound  the 
real  depths  of  the  subject  it  is  important  that  we 
should  not  be  content  to  remain  moored  to  the  thera- 
peutic problem  of  the  neuroses.  As  soon  as  we  get 

32  Thomas  Inman :  "Ancient  Pagan  and  Modern  Christian  Sym- 
bolism." New  York,  T.  W.  Bouton,  1884. 


SYMBOLISM  109 

away  from  this  standpoint  we  see  at  once  that  every 
word,  every  idea  may  properly  be  considered  as  sym- 
bolic,— the  idea  symbolises  in  mental  imagery  the 
thing  in  the  outside  world  and  the  word  symbolises 
the  idea.  From  this  point  of  view  all  of  our  think- 
ing takes  place  by  the  use  of  symbols  and  then  it 
follows,  from  the  very  principles  of  development, 
that  in  the  last  analysis  they  must  all  have  their 
roots  in  the  unconscious. 

Animal  reactions,  more  particularly  those  of  man, 
may  be  conveniently  considered  as  occurring  at  three 
levels,  with  the  usual  understanding  that  here  as 
elsewhere  there  are  no  hard  and  fast  boundaries. 
The  first  or  phylogenetically  the  oldest  is  the  physico- 
chemical  level.  Broadly  speaking  this  is  the  level 
of  such  functions  as  circulation,  growth,  digestion. 
It  is  the  level  of  the  endocrinous  glands  and  the 
sympathetic  and  autonomic  nervous  systems  and  is 
well  represented  by  the  chemical  regulators  of  metab- 
olism. The  next  level  is  the  sensori-motor  level  in- 
tegrated by  the  peripheral  nerves,  spinal  cord  and 
brain  stem.  It  is  the  level  of  the  reflex.  The  third 
level  is  the  psychic.  At  this  level  we  are  no  longer 
dealing  with  questions  of  leverage,  hydrodynamics 
or  temperature,  with  acids,  bases,  or  hormones,  nor 
yet  with  simple  or  compound  reflexes  or  nerve  cells, 
nerve  fibres  or  synapses.  Here  we  are  dealing 
with  symbols  and  symbols  only  and  so  this  level  may 
aptly  be  further  qualified  as  the  symbolic  level. 

Is  there  anything  that  these  levels  possess  in  com- 
mon? and  what  has  been  the  advantage  in  proceeding 


110  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

from  one  to  the  other  in  the  course  of  develop- 
ment? 

The  long  bone  which,  as  a  lever,  is  moved  by  a 
muscle  transmits  energy  from  one  place  to  another 
in  the  form  of  motion  and  changes  the  direction  of 
that  motion.  In  the  process  much  of  the  energy,  in 
the  last  analysis  all  of  it,  is  transformed  into  heat, 
chemical  energy,  etc.  The  chemical  regulators  of 
metabolism  carry  energy  from  one  place  to  another 
which  is  transformed  in  the  various  resulting  chem- 
ical reactions.  The  sensori-motor  nervous  system, 
the  reflex  arc,  is  a  transmitter  of  motion  which  it  also 
transforms:  for  example  one  effect  of  illumination 
of  the  retina  is  contraction  of  the  pupil.  At  the 
symbolic  level  a  symbol,  such  as  patriotism,  is  ca- 
pable of  transmitting  and  transforming  an  enormous 
amount  of  energy  into  very  numerous  and  complex 
avenues  of  conduct  of  individuals  and  nations. 

That  the  organism  is  a  transmitter  and  trans- 
former of  energy,  will  be  fairly  evident  so  long  as  we 
limit  consideration  to  the  physico-chemical  and 
sensori-motor  levels,  but  when  we  come  to  apply  this 
same  principle  to  the  psychic,  or  as  I  have  already 
designated  it,  the  symbolic  level,  it  is  not  so  evident 
because  we  are  not  in  the  habit  of  thinking  in  such 
terms.  Its  application  here  will  therefore  bear 
further  illustration. 

Let  us  take  as  an  example  the  national  flag.  That 
the  flag  is  a  symbol  needs  no  argument.  It  stands 
for,  represents,  symbolises,  the  nation.  That  is  al- 
most all  that  can  be  said  for  it  in  general,  but  further 


SYMBOLISM  111 

than  that  it  stands  in  each  individual's  thinking  for 
what  the  nation  means  to  him.  The  idea  of  the  na- 
tion, itself  a  symbol,  means  one  thing  to  one  person, 
another  thing  to  another  person.  To  one  it  means 
protection,  to  another  community  of  interests,  to  still 
another  a  certain  geographical  area ;  to  one  it  stands 
for  a  military  unit,  to  another  it  means  right,  honour, 
loyalty,  etc.  Every  individual  gives  his  own  par- 
ticular touch  to  the  concept  nation,  and  so  for  him 
the  flag  has  that  special  meaning.  And  yet  with  all 
this  infinite  diversity  the  flag  is  able  to  unite  all  that 
is  held  in  common,  all  these  various  ideas  and  feel- 
ings meet  on  a  common  basis  which  is  nucleated  in 
the  national  emblem  and  at  large  gatherings  of  peo- 
ple one  can  see  how  they  are  swayed  by  it,  how  in 
one  common  sea  of  feeling  they  all  react  in  practically 
the  same  way,  with  the  same  feelings,  the  same  emo- 
tions, the  same  sounds  as  they  sing  a  national  an- 
them. There  is  no  need  to  dilate  upon  the  obvious 
and  more  than  mention  the  immense  amount  of  en- 
ergy which  may  thus  be  liberated;  the  particular 
point  of  emphasis,  however,  is  that  in  some  way  this 
enormous  energy  is  bound  up  in  the  symbol.  The 
symbol  is  a  transmitter  and  transmuter  of  energy  at 
this  level  just  as  the  reflex  arc,  the  ion,  or  the  lever 
are  at  lower  levels. 

So  much  for  the  answer  to  the  question  as  to 
whether  the  three  reaction  levels  possess  anything 
in  common.  They  all  then  present  reactions  which 
are  different  ways  of  transmitting  and  transmuting 
energy.  Now,  why  has  the  symbol  been  found  of 


112  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

special  advantage  in  the  course  of  development? 
To  facilitate  the  argument  this  question  may  be  an- 
swered at  once.  It  is  because  of  the  wide  latitude  of 
usefulness  the  symbol  has  both  as  a  carrier  and 
transmuter  of  energy,  and  also  because  it  can  be 
used  as  a  vehicle  to  transmit  energy  from  a  lower  to 
a  higher  level.  To  illustrate: 

First  as  to  the  wide  latitude  of  usefulness  of  the 
symbol.  Consider  the  symbol  money  for  example. 
Money  represents  accumulated  energy.  Work  of 
whatever  character,  unintelligent  physical  labour  or 
highly  intellectual,  is  reduced  to  the  common  stand- 
ard of  money  value  and  so  the  energy  which  an  indi- 
vidual has  to  give  in  the  form  of  work  he,  so  to 
speak,  turns  into  the  energy  symbol  money  and  this 
symbol  can  be  exchanged  for  any  one  of  innumer- 
able kinds  of  energy  carriers — for  bread  and  meat, 
for  machinery  for  manufacturing  purposes,  for 
books  of  learning,  for  maintaining  a  home,  in  short 
for  an  infinity  of  things  which  have  as  their  func- 
tion the  maintenance  and  preservation  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  increase  and  extension  of  his  power 
and  influence. 

Money  as  a  symbol  of  energy  which  could  be  ex- 
changed in  trade  has  existed  from  the  earliest  times. 
The  energy  has  been  concretely  represented  by  all 
sorts  of  things  from  the  crude  forms  of  primitive 
man,  the  shells,  beads,  and  wampum  to  the  highly 
elaborated  gold  and  silver  coins  and  bills  of  the  pres- 
ent day.  The  underlying  principle,  the  common 
meaning,  the  unconscious  origin  has  always  been  the 


SYMBOLISM  113 

same.  It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  more  adjust- 
able, usable,  practically  available  energy  transmit- 
ter and  one  at  once  so  sensitive  to  all  the  circum- 
stances in  the  midst  of  which  it  exists.  Witness  the 
fluctuations  of  foreign  exchange  in  response  to  ru- 
mours affecting  the  possible  solvency  of  a  nation. 

Money,  however,  is  not  the  only  symbol  that  has 
these  qualities  of  easy  availability — an  energy  trans- 
mitter coupled  with  great  sensitiveness  of  reaction. 
In  fact  if  we  will  examine  any  symbol  we  will  find  it 
to  have  much  the  same  properties,  such  symbols  for 
example  as  birth  and  death,  good  and  bad,  society, 
culture,  education,  character,  etc.  The  symbol  God, 
for  example,  has  stood  for  concepts  all  the  way 
from  the  crudest  anthropomorphism  to  the  most 
abstruse  and  abstract  present-day  conceptions  of  a 
first  cause  or  the  absolute.  This  same  symbol  has 
been  able  to  follow  along  with  the  development  of 
man's  religious  consciousness  ever  remaining  deli- 
cately attuned  to  his  stage  of  development  and  serv- 
ing to  express  him  in  his  reactions.  Herein  we  see 
the  most  important  function,  the  greatest  value  of 
the  symbol.  It  is  not  only  a  transmitter  of  energy 
but  it  is  capable  of  transmitting  energy  from  a  lower 
to  a  higher  level.  In  the  evolution  of  the  concept 
God  the  same  symbol  has  been  continuously  employed 
but  the  energy  has  been  employed  at  progressively 
higher  and  higher  levels.  The  symbol  has  been 
capable  of  this  wide  field  of  usefulness  in  this  pe- 
culiarly valuable  way.  To  add  an  illustration  in  the 
field  of  therapeusis.  The  patient  that  Dr.  Kempf 


114  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

recently  reported.33  This  woman  had  what  the  pure 
Freudians  would  call  an  incest  complex.  In  other 
words  she  had  been  forced  back  upon  and  in  herself 
by  her  circumstances  which  did  not  permit  of  ade- 
quate outlet  for  self-expression.  Shut  off  from  find- 
ing expression  in  the  outside  world  she  was  driven 
back  upon  herself — introversion — to  ever  lower  in- 
stinctive levels  in  her  effort  at  finding  satisfaction, 
pleasure.  Finally,  in  the  delirium  of  her  psychosis, 
she  found  an  outlet  in  bringing  again  upon  the  stage 
her  infantile  satisfactions  in  her  relation  to  and  love 
for  her  father.  The  symbol  "father"  carried  over 
the  energy  of  her  libido  and  permitted  her  to  find 
expression.  The  important  thing  therapeutically  is 
that  this  same  symbol  was  effective  as  a  carrier  of 
energy  to  higher  levels  which  resulted  in  her  recov- 
ery. The  energy  bound  up  in  the  symbol  "father" 
was  carried  over  to  the  concept  "Heavenly  Father" 
and  she  thus  was  able  to  emerge  from  a  condition 
of  infantile  helplessness  to  one  of  social  utility  by 
developing  a  distinctly  religious  type  of  reaction — 
by  sublimation. 

In  the  lower  forms  of  life  and  at  the  phylogeneti- 
cally  older  reacting  levels  of  the  human  organism  the 
reactions  are  relatively  more  fixed,  they  occur  within 
much  narrower  limits  of  variation,  they  are  more 
predictable  and  less  adjustable  and  variable.  The 
physical  are  the  most  rigid,  some  of  them  even  being 
so  constant  as  to  be  reducible  to  mathematical  formu- 
lae; the  chemical  though  less  rigidly  restricted  still 

33  The  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  II,  No.  IV,  Oct.,  1915. 


SYMBOLISM  115 

show  relatively  little  capacity  for  adjustment  and 
variation;  this  continues  true  but  to  less  extent  of 
the  reactions  of  the  sensori-motor  level. 

The  living  organism  in  its  evolution  is  ever  striv- 
ing to  gain  dominion  over  its  environment  and  in 
this  struggle  for  dominance  organisms  are  developed 
which  become  increasingly  adaptable  and  adjustable 
to  the  constantly  changing  conditions  of  that  environ- 
ment. In  the  course  of  this  evolution  chemical  rad- 
icals, hormones,  reflexes,  and  a  host  of  other  physical, 
chemical,  and  nervous  agents  have  been  utilised  as 
transmitters  and  transmuters  of  energy  and  have 
each  in  turn  been  superseded.  Though  some  have 
been  more  adjustable  than  others  they  have  all  lacked 
a  capacity  for  variability  which  made  indefinite  ad- 
vance in  the  control  of  the  environment  possible. 
The  symbol  has  finally  been  developed  as  the  energy 
carrier  because  it  possesses  these  properties. 

The  symbol  only  comes  under  consideration  at 
conscious  levels,  at  levels  of  reaction  which  are  so 
complex,  which  present  so  many  possibilities  that 
physical,  chemical  or  reflex  nervous  reactions,  be- 
cause of  their  relatively  stereotyped  character,  are 
no  longer  available.  Consciousness  is  an  expression 
of  reactions  which  at  least  appear  to  be  indeterminate 
and  at  these  levels  the  idea,  as  symbol,  takes  the 
place  of  the  hormone  or  the  reflex  at  lower  levels  as 
the  carrier  of  energy.  The  idea  is  therefore  a  sym- 
bolic reaction  at  the  conscious  level  at  which  the 
symbol  is  the  energy  distributor. 

The  conception  of  the  psyche  as  energy  with  a 


116  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

history,  not  only  individual  but  racial,  serves  to  re- 
late it  more  easily  with  the  body,  especially  in  these 
later  years,  when  the  ultimate  particles  of  matter 
are  being  thought  of  as  points  of  stress  in  the  ether. 
Our  psychological  concepts  are  therefore  only  sym- 
bols for  various  stations  in  the  process  of  energy 
distribution  and  we  can  see  how  such  a  dynamic 
psychology  may  serve  to  finally  solve  that  pseudo- 
problem,  the  relation  of  mind  and  body,  by  break- 
ing down  the  artificial  barrier  between  them. 


CHAPTER  VI 
DREAM  MECHANISMS 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  dealt  with  the  broad 
general  questions  which  have  been  necessary  in  order 
to  define  the  placement  of  the  psyche  in  the  evolu- 
tional scheme  and  outline  in  a  general  way  its  depend- 
ence upon  and  development  from  pre-psychic  types 
of  reaction.  In  other  words  we  have  dealt  with  the 
nature  of  the  material  that  goes  into  the 'types  of 
reaction  which  we  call  psychological.  The  next  step 
in  the  logical  unfoldment  of  the  scheme  of  presenta- 
tion will  be  the  formulation  of  the  various  mechan- 
isms which  are  utilised  at  the  psychic  or  symbolic 
level  in  dealing  with  the  two-fold  problem  of  in- 
tegration and  adjustment.  This  aspect  of  the  prob- 
lem can  be  most  satisfactorily  approached  by  a  study 
of  the  mechanisms  of  dreams  in  which  we  see  the 
various  psychological  types  of  reaction  peculiarly 
emphasised  because  of  the  exaggerated  activity  of 
the  unconscious  terms  which  tend  during  sleep  to 
come  to  a  relatively  extreme  form  of  activity  and  to 
elude  the  ordinary  corrections  of  intellectual  critique. 

Of  course,  dreams,  we  know,  have  pretty  gen- 
erally been  regarded  as  of  no  importance,  as  foolish 
jumbles,  as  grotesque  though  perhaps  interesting, 
and  often  as  depending  upon  conditions  just  preced- 

117 


118 

ing  or  during  sleep.  This  latter  has  been  about  as 
far  as  the  attempt  to  explain  has  usually  gone.  For 
example,  a  person  dreams  he  is  in  the  Arctic  regions 
because  he  has  kicked  the  bed  clothes  off  and  is  cold. 
The  simple  question  why  he  should  dream  of  being 
in  the  Arctic  regions  rather  than  at  home  in  the 
winter  or  in  a  cold  storage  plant  or  a  thousand  other 
cold  places  shows  at  once  the  inadequacy  of  such  an 
explanation. 

To  put  the  whole  matter  very  simply:  the  ma- 
terial of  which  the  dream  is  composed  must  neces- 
sarily be  made  up  of  the  content  of  the  dreamer's 
psyche  and  there  must  be  some  sufficient  reason  why 
it  is  put  together  in  one  particular  way  rather  than 
in  another.  To  fail  to  accept  these  propositions  is 
the  equivalent  of  acknowledging  that  the  dream 
may  be  wholly  fortuitous  which  again  is  tantamount 
to  denying  the  possibility  of  a  scientific  psychology. 
Dreams  are  psychic  events,  and  like  all  other  psychic 
events  they  are  end  products  which  can  only  reach 
their  complete  explanation  by  knowing  all  that  has 
gone  before.  If  we  take  up  their  study  in  this  spirit, 
that  they  are  phenomena — natural  phenomena — and 
therefore  are  proper  objects  for  scientific  investiga- 
tion rather  than  just  nonsense  to  be  dismissed  with- 
out even  examining  their  credentials  we  shall  soon 
see  that  they  are  filled  with  meanings,  often  of  the 
most  important  character  for  an  understanding  of 
the  individual  and  his  problems. 

We  think  in  one  of  two  different  ways :  first  by  the 
method  with  which  we  are  all  familiar  and  to  which 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  119 

the  term  thinking  is  almost  exclusively  applied.  In 
this  method  of  thinking  there  is  clear  consciousness 
in  the  sense  that  the  person  is  definitely  oriented  to- 
ward reality  and  the  thinking  is  carried  on  with  the 
exercise  of  careful  critique  and  under  the  control  of 
the  processes  which  we  term  intellectual.  Such 
clear  conscious  intelligent  thinking  has  its  motivating 
incentives  in  reality. 

There  is  another  kind  of  thinking,  however,  which 
is  very  different  from  that  just  described.  It  is  the 
thinking  which  takes  place  without  conscious  direc- 
tion or  critique,  the  thinking  in  which  ideas  follow 
one  another  without  selection,  coming  and  going 
without  apparent  reason,  and  corresponding,  not  at 
all,  with  any  relation  between  the  individual  and 
reality.  This  is  the  kind  of  thinking  that  takes 
place  during  dreaming,  either  during  the  dream  of 
sleep,  or  during  day  dreaming,  at  times  of  mental 
abstraction  and  so-called  wool  gathering,  and  the 
thoughts  which  come  at  such  times  we  no  longer  call 
thoughts,  but  phantasies. 

What  is  the  significance  of  this  thinking  by  phan- 
tasy formation?  To  understand  this  we  must  turn 
back  for  the  moment  to  what  has  been  said  of  the 
pain-pleasure  and  the  reality  motives  for  conduct, 
the  conflict,  and  the  nature  of  the  unconscious  and 
the  conscious  and  realise  that  mental  life  is  the  re- 
sult of  an  effort  to  bring  the  individual  into  more 
effectual  adaptation  with  his  environment  and  that 
if  we  will  glance  for  a  moment  over  the  life  of  the 
individual  from  the  period  of  the  first  few  weeks, 


120  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

when  the  principal  motive  in  life  is  nutritional,  to 
the  time  of  adulthood  with  all  its  conflicts  and  social 
demands,  we  will  realise  that  in  the  process  of  adjust- 
ment which  has  necessarily  taken  place  in  the  inter- 
val there  has  of  necessity  had  to  be  put  aside,  more 
and  more,  as  the  demands  from  the  outside  increased, 
the  immediate  satisfaction  of  the  demands  which 
clamour  for  recognition  from  within.  And  so  the 
process  of  adaptation  has  of  necessity  to  have  been 
one  of  compromise,  compromise  between  the  pleasure 
motive  which  would  demand  the  immediate  satisfac- 
tion of  all  bodily  cravings  and  the  reality  motive 
which  puts  off  fulfilment  into  an  ever  receding  fu- 
ture of  the  demands  of  the  present  and  insistent 
world  of  reality. 

The  world  of  phantasy,  therefore,  the  world  of 
dreams,  is  dominated  not  by  the  reality  motive,  but 
by  the  pleasure  motive,  in  other  words  the  uncon- 
scious, that  can  only  wish.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
phantasy  formations,  whether  they  occur  in  the  sleep- 
ing or  in  the  waking  state  and  whether  they  be 
termed  dreams  or  visions  or  what  not,  are  funda- 
mentally wish-fulfilling.1 

i  The  term  wish  is  used  here  in  a  very  broad  sense.  If  I  put 
out  my  hand  to  move  a  chair  my  hand  meets  with  resistance. 
This  resistance  might,  by  analogy,  be  termed  the  wish  of  the  chair 
not  to  be  moved.  The  unconscious  represents  our  moorings  to  the 
past  and  effort  to  go  forward  is  met  by  its  resistance  which  has 
first  to  be  overcome.  It  represents  infantile  ways  of  satisfaction 
which  the  individual  would  fain  hang  on  to,  is  loth  to  give  up. 
This  is  the  aspect  of  the  unconscious  which  is  referred  to  when 
it  is  said  that  the  unconscious  can  only  wish. 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  121 

We  therefore  see  at  the  outset  conflict  at  the  very 
root  of  dreams  and  realising  the  nature  of  this  con- 
flict we  should  not  be  surprised  when  we  find  an  in- 
dividual unable  to  measure  up  to  the  demands  of  the 
real  world,  sinking  back  into  his  own  world,  the 
world  of  phantasy,  the  world  where  things  come 
true  as  he  would  wish  them,  escaping  from  the  de- 
mands of  real  life,  and  taking  flight  into  this  region 
either  in  his  dreams,  or,  as  we  shall  see  later,  perhaps 
in  a  psychosis.2 

The  whole  question  of  the  meaning  of  reality  and 
of  phantasy  particularly  as  related  to  dreaming  is 
especially  well  brought  out  in  the  Papyri  of  Phi- 
lonous.3  The  dialogue  is  between  Protagoras  and 
Morosophus  and  proceeds  as  follows : 

P.  ...  As  to  your  other  question,  did  you  ever 
meet  Xanthias,  the  son  of  Glaucus? 

M.  Yes,  but  he  seemed  to  me  a  very  ordinary 
man  and  quite  unfit  to  aid  in  such  inquiries. 

P.  To  me  he  seemed  most  wonderful,  and  a  great 
proof  of  the  truth  I  have  maintained.  For  the 
wretch  was  actually  unable  to  distinguish  red  from 
green,  the  colour  of  grass  from  that  of  blood !  You 
may  imagine  how  he  dressed,  and  how  his  taste  was 
derided.  But  it  was  his  eye  and  not  his  taste,  that 
was  in  fault.  I  questioned  him  closely  and  am  sure 

2  "Aristotle   says   somewhere :    'When   we   are   awake   we   have   a 
common  world,  when  we  dream  each  one  has  his  own!'    I  think 
this  last  should  be  turned  about  and  we  should  say:  When,  among 
men,  one  has  his  own  world,  then  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  he 
dreams."     Kant. 

3  Previously  referred  to  in  Chap.  I. 


122  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

he  could  not  help  it.  He  simply  saw  colours  dif- 
ferently. How  and  why  I  was  not  able  to  make  out. 
But  it  was  from  his  case  and  others  like  it,  but  less 
startling,  that  I  learnt  that  truth  and  reality  are  to 
each  man  what  appears  to  him.  For  the  differences, 
I  am  sure,  exist,  even  though  they  are  not  noticed 
unless  they  are  very  great  and  inconvenient. 

M.  But  surely  Xanthias  was  diseased,  and  his 
judgments  about  colours  are  of  no  more  importance 
than  those  of  a  madman. 

P.  You  do  not  get  rid  of  the  difference  by  calling 
it  madness  and  disease.  And  how  would  you  define 
the  essential  nature  of  madness  and  disease  ? 

M.  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  You  should  ask 
Asclepius. 

P.  Ah,  he  is  one  of  those  gods  I  have  never  been 
able  to  meet!  Let  me  hazard,  rather,  a  conjecture 
that  madness  and  disease  are  merely  two  ways  of 
showing  inability  to  keep  up  that  common  world  in 
which  we  both  are  and  are  not,  and  from  which  we 
seem  to  drop  out  wholly  when  we  die. 

M.  A  strange  conjecture  truly  for  a  strange  case ! 
Would  you  apply  it  also  to  disease?  For  in  that 
case  the  difficulty  seems  to  be  rather  in  conforming 
oneself  to  things  than  to  one's  fellow-men. 

P.  To  both,  rather.  Does  not  a  fever  drive  one 
madly  out  of  the  common  world  into  a  world  of 
empty  dreams?  And  is  not  the  diseased  body  part 
of  the  common  world  ? 

M.    Perhaps,  but  such  conjectures  do  not  interest 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  123 

me.  Will  you  not  rather  give  an  account  of  your 
own  disease  or  madness,  that  of  thinking  that  the 
common  world  can  be  compounded  out  of  a  multi- 
tude of  individual  worlds? 

P.  Willingly.  Conceive  then  first  of  all  a  varied 
multitude,  each  of  whom  perceived  things  in  a  fashion 
peculiar  to  himself. 

M.    You  bid  me  conceive  a  world  of  madmen ! 

P.  It  does  not  matter  what  you  call  them,  nor 
that  our  world  was  never  in  so  grievous  a  condition. 
I  only  want  you  to  see  that  such  madmen  would  in 
no  wise  be  able  to  agree  or  act  together,  and  that 
each  would  live  shut  up  in  himself,  unintelligible  to 
the  others  and  with  no  comprehension  of  them. 

M.    Of  course. 

P.  Would  you  admit  also  that  such  a  life  would 
be  one  of  the  extremest  weakness? 

M.    So  weak  as  to  be  impossible ! 

P.  Perhaps.  And  now  suppose  that  by  the  in- 
terposition of  some  god,  or  as  the  saying  is,  ''by  a 
divine  chance,"  some  of  these  strange  beings  were 
to  be  endowed  with  the  ability  to  agree  and  act  to- 
gether in  some  partial  ways,  say  in  respect  to  the 
red  and  the  sweet,  and  the  loud  and  the  pleasant. 
Would  this  not  be  a  great  advantage?  And  would 
they  not  be  enabled  to  join  together  and  to  form  a 
community  in  virtue  of  the  communion  they  had 
achieved?  And  would  they  not  be  stronger  by  far 
than  those  who  did  not  "perceive  the  same"?  And 
so  would  they  not  profit  in  proportion  as  they  could 


124  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

1  'perceive  the  same"?  and  would  not  a  world  of 
"common"  perception  and  thought  thus  gradually 
grow  up  ? 

M.  Only  if  they  really  did  perceive  the  same :  to 
"agree  in  action"  and  to  "perceive  the  same"  are 
not  the  same,  and  when  you  have  reached  the  former 
you  have  not  proved  the  latter. 

P.  As  much  as  I  need  to.  For  by  "perceiving 
the  same ' '  I  mean  only  perceiving  in  such  a  way  that 
we  can  act  together.  Thus  if  we  are  told  that  a  red 
light  means  "danger"  and  a  green  light  "assist- 
ance," then  if  we  both  flee  from  the  red  and  wel- 
come the  green,  we  are  said  to  "perceive  the  same." 
But  whether  what  I  perceive  as  red  is  in  any  other 
sense  "the  same"  as  what  you  perceive  as  red,  it  is 
foolish  even  to  inquire.  For  I  cannot  carry  my 
"red"  into  your  soul  nor  you  yours  into  mine,  and 
so  we  cannot  compare  them,  nor  see  how  far  they  are 
alike  or  not.  And  even  if  I  could,  my  comparing  of 
my  "red"  with  yours  would  not  be  the  same  as  your 
comparing  them.  Moreover,  if  we  imagined,  what 
to  me  indeed  is  absurd  but  to  you  should  be  possible, 
namely,  that  when  I  perceive  "red"  I  feel  as  you  do 
when  you  perceive  "green"  and  that  your  feeling 
when  you  perceive  "red"  is  the  same  as  mine  when 
I  perceive  "green,"  there  would  be  no  way  of  show- 
ing that  we  did  not  perceive  alike.  For  we  should 
always  agree  in  distinguishing  "red"  and  "green." 
The  "sameness,"  therefore,  is  not  the  cause  of  the 
common  action,  but  its  effect.  Or  rather  it  is  an- 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  125 

other  way,  less  exact,  but  shorter,  of  asserting  it. 
And  so  there  arises  the  opinion  that  we  all  perceive 
alike,  and  that  if  any  one  does  not,  he  is  mad.  Now 
this  is  true  as  opinion,  being  as  it  is  convenient  and 
salutary,  and  enough  for  ordinary  life.  But  for  the 
purposes  of  science  we  must  be  more  precise,  and 
regard  "perception  of  the  same"  not  as  a  starting 
point,  but  as  a  goal,  which  in  some  matters  we  have 
almost,  and  for  some  purposes  we  have  quite  reached. 
In  short,  we  always  at  bottom  reason  from  the  "com- 
mon" action  to  the  "common"  perception,  and  not 
conversely.  Hence,  too,  when  we  wish  to  speak  ex- 
actly, we  must  infer  that  no  two  ever  quite  "per- 
ceive the  same,"  because  their  actions  never  quite 
agree.  Moreover,  this  makes  clear  why  we  agree 
about  some  things  and  judge  the  same,  and  not  about 
others,  but  judge  differently.  We  agree  about  the 
things  it  is  necessary  to  agree  about  in  order  to  live 
at  all;  we  vary  concerning  the  things  which  are  not 
needed  for  bare  life,  even  though  they  may  conduce 
to  a  life  that  is  beautiful  and  good.  But  it  is  only 
when  we  do  not  act  at  all  that  we  are  able  to  live  our 
own  private  life  apart,  and  to  differ  utterly  from  all 
others. 

M.  And  what,  pray,  is  this  strange  life  in  which 
we  do  not  act? 

P.  Do  you  not  remember  the  saying  of  Heracli- 
tus,  "For  the  waking  there  is  one  common  world,  but 
of  those  asleep  each  one  turns  aside  to  his  own 
privacy"?  And  do  you  suppose  that  if  we  acted  on 


126  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

our  dreams,  we  could  with  impunity  do  what  we 
dream?  Is  it  not  merely  because  we  lie  still,  and 
do  not  stir,  that  we  can  indulge  our  fancies  ? 

This  dialogue  sets  forth  an  excellent  point  of  view 
for  differentiating  the  world  of  reality  from  the 
world  of  phantasy.  It  makes  the  differentiation  on 
the  basis  of  the  criterion  of  action.  Ellis  has  said,4 
*  *  Dreams  are  real  while  they  last ;  can  we  say  more 
of  life?"  It  may  be  said  that  the  world  of  dreams 
is  a  real  world  but  it  is  not  a  world  of  reality.  The 
distinction  is  fundamental.  Reality  calls  forth  ac- 
tion by  the  organism  as  a  whole.  It  is  analogous  to 
the  distinction  that  Sherrington  5  draws  as  between 
the  sense  of  taste  and  the  sense  of  smell.  Taste  is 
an  interoceptive  sense  which  calls  forth  visceral  re- 
sponses while  smell,  to  the  extent  that  it  is  an  ex- 
teroceptive  sense  calls  forth  acts  of  locomotion  for 
the  purpose  of  relating  the  body  to  the  source  of  the 
odour,  moving  the  body  towards  or  away  from  that 
source. 

It  will  be  advantageous  at  this  point  to  describe 
the  dream  mechanisms  in  the  main  as  laid  down  by 
the  epoch  making  work  of  Freud,  "Die  Tram- 
deutung."6  These  interpretations  have  been  elab- 
orated and  worked  over  to  a  considerable  extent  but 
remain,  in  the  main,  as  he  formulated  them. 

*  Cited  by  P.  G.  Stiles:  "The  Nervous  System  and  Its  Conserva- 
tion." W.  B.  Saunders  Company,  Philadelphia,  1914. 

o  Cited  by  C.  J.  Herrick :  "An  Introduction  to  Neurology,  W.  B. 
Saunders  Company,  Philadelphia,  1915. 

e  Eng.  trans,  by  A.  A.  Brill :  "The  Interpretation  of  Dreams," 
The  Macmillan  Company,  New  York,  1913. 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  127 

The  dream  always,  nearly,  uses  as  the  material 
through  which  it  expresses  its  meaning  the  experi- 
ences of  the  last  waking  state  and  it  is  largely  be- 
cause of  this  fact  that  so  many  psychologists  have 
insisted  and  still  insist  that  the  dream  is  the  result 
of  sensory  experiences  and  can  be  modified  by  sen- 
sory stimuli  more  or  less  at  will,  as  for  example, 
the  man  who  kicks  the  bed  clothes  off  at  night  and 
dreams  of  being  in  the  Arctic  regions.  This  is  an 
example  of  the  familiar  fallacy  of  post  hoc  ergo 
propter  hoc.  The  reason  why  the  dream  uses  the 
material  of  the  last  waking  state  is  perfectly  plain. 
Something  in  the  previous  waking  period  by  asso- 
ciational  relationship  has  touched  an  important  com- 
plex in  the  individual,  stirred  it  into  activity,  which 
activity  is  expressed  in  the  phantasy  formation  of 
the  dream  of  that  night.  The  process  may  be  com- 
pared to  the  vibration  of  the  A  string  on  the  piano. 
If  one  holds  a  vibrating  A  tuning  fork  over  the  harp 
it  is  the  A  string  and  only  the  A  string  which  vi- 
brates, not  the  G  nor  the  C,  but  only  the  A  vibrates 
in  harmony  with  the  tuning  fork.  So  when  some  • 
event  in  the  previous  waking  experience,  so  to  speak, 
vibrates  in  harmony  with  some  fact  of  great  im- 
portance buried  beneath  the  threshold  of  conscious- 
ness then  that  mental  fact  is  stirred  into  activity, 
and  that  is  why  when  it  forms  phantasies  it  uses  the 
material  which  brought  it  into  being.  One  of  my 
patients  had  a  dream  that  took  him  back  to  his  youth 
and  to  a  setting  in  which  important  matters,  emo- 
tionally, took  place  in  his  child  life.  In  the  dream 


128 

lie  saw  a  grey  fox,  that  was  one  of  the  central  visuali- 
sations of  the  dream  drama,  but  in  his  childhood 
days,  although  he  had  seen  many  foxes,  he  had  never 
seen  a  grey  fox.  He  had  however  seen  red  foxes. 
How  does  the  fox  of  the  dream  come  to  be  grey? 
He  had  been  to  the  zoological  park  on  the  dream  day 
and  there  seen  grey  foxes.  Now  is  it  not  easy  to  see 
why?  Because  the  fox  stirred  up  an  important  as- 
sociation of  emotional  significance  in  his  youth  it 
started  him  to  dream  and  although  he  had  never 
seen  other  than  a  red  fox  in  his  youth  the  dream  fox 
was  grey  because  it  was  a  grey  fox  the  day  before 
that  had  started  the  associations  that  stirred  up  the 
material  out  of  which  his  dream  was  formed. 

The  first  thing  that  impresses  us  about  the  dream, 
when  we  come  to  examine  its  content,  is  its  appar- 
ent triviality.  If  the  dream  as  a  matter  of  fact  does 
deal  with  important  matters  in  the  life  of  the  indi- 
vidual then  the  expressions  it  makes  use  of  must  be 
highly  symbolic,  i.e.,  must  stand  for  some  meaning 
other  than  their  apparent  meaning.  This  is  true. 
The  dream  is  symbolic  in  the  sense  of  Ferenczi, 
namely,  its  origin  is  the  unconscious.  This  we  will 
understand  when  we  realise  that  the  dream  is  an 
excursion  into  the  world  of  phantasy,  the  world  of 
unreality,  the  world  where  the  pleasure  motive  dom- 
inates. Now  the  pleasure  motive  as  we  have  seen  is 
opposed  to  the  reality  motive.  Therefore  if  it  is  to 
come  upon  the  stage  and  play  its  part  it  can  only  do 
so  under  the  penalty  of  wearing  a  more  or  less  com- 
plete disguise.  The  function  of  the  dream  is,  in  part 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  129 

at  least,  to  conserve  sleep.  And  so  the  play  of  the 
pleasure  motive  must  be  sufficiently  disguised  so  as 
not  to  awaken  the  dreamer.  The  pleasure  motive, 
it  will  be  seen,  has  been  repressed  as  the  reality  mo- 
tive has  come  to  the  foreground,  and  therefore  it  is 
the  repressed  expressions  of  the  pleasure  motive 
that  come  forward  to  expression  in  the  dream.  In 
other  words  the  dream  is  wish-fulfilling,  as  we  have 
seen,  and  it  also  contains,  as  a  rule,  the  expression 
of  some  mental  fact  which  in  the  waking  life  has  been 
repressed.  For  example:  A  gentleman  told  me 
that  he  awoke  with  a  consciousness  of  having  been 
dreaming,  but  he  could  not  remember  any  of  the 
dream.  He  only  had  a  conviction  that  he  had  either 
used  or  heard  used  during  the  dream  the  word 
"diathesis."  Now  he  said  he  had  never  heard  the 
word  "diathesis,"  in  fact  so  far  as  he  knew  there 
was  no  such  word,  so  he  felt  that  he  must  be  mistaken 
and  that  the  word  was  probably  "dieresis."  He 
immediately  got  up  and  went  to  the  dictionary  to  see 
whether  there  was  such  a  word  as  "diathesis."  I 
asked  him  what  he  found  the  word  "diathesis"  to 
mean  and  he  said  "a  tendency  to  disease."  I  asked 
him  what  "dieresis"  meant  and  he  said  that  "diere- 
sis" was  the  mark  that  one  made  in  writing  indi- 
cating that  something  had  been  left  out.  Of  course 
this  is  not  the  true  meaning,  but  the  significant  thing 
is  that  it  was  the  meaning  to  him.  In  the  light  of 
a  little  additional  information  the  meaning  of  the 
dream  became  clear.  The  dreamer  had  been  ill. 
The  illness  pointed  pretty  directly  to  the  Mdney  as 


130  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  offending  organ  and  he  had  been  afraid  that  he 
had  a  tendency  to  kidney  disease.  This  fear  he  had 
repressed,  had  refused  to  look  it  squarely  in  the  face 
and  to  regulate  his  life  accordingly,  but  had  pre- 
ferred to  act  as  if  no  such  tendency  existed,  thereby 
endeavouring  to  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that 
no  such  tendency  in  fact  did  exist.  The  dream  shows 
the  true  state  of  affairs,  shows  his  fear  of  kidney 
disease,  the  repression  of  this  fear,  and  the  wish  that 
his  "diathesis,"  so  to  speak,  might  be  eliminated, 
left  out,  which  is  the  meaning  that  "dieresis"  had 
for  him.  And  so  again  in  a  simple  dream  fragment 
like  this  we  get  instantly,  directly,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments right  at  the  heart  of  the  question.  We  find 
out  exactly  the  thing  that  is  worrying  him,  worrying 
him  so  much  in  fact  that  to  one  who  knew  him  it 
was  perfectly  apparent  that  something  had  gone 
wrong. 

It  will  be  seen  in  this  dream  that  the  symbolism 
serves  a  very  definite  purpose,  namely  it  clothes  the 
dream  in  a  language  which  is  illogical  to  the  dreamer. 
It  therefore  conserves  sleep  and  permits  the  wish- 
fulfilling  play  to  go  on  under  such  a  disguise  that 
the  sleeper  is  not  disturbed.  The  superficial  aspect 
of  the  dream  as  the  dreamer  himself  sees  it  and  as 
he  relates  it  is  the  manifest  content  of  the  dream. 
While  the  deeper  meaning  that  lies  behind  the  mani- 
fest content  and  which  comes  out  when  one  is  able 
to  read  the  language  of  the  dream  is  the  latent  con- 
tent and  contains  the  true  meaning  of  the  dream. 
The  change  of  the  latent  content  into  the  material 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  131 

of  the  manifest  content  is  accompanied  with  a  great 
deal  of  distortion,  and  the  symbolisms  in  the  above 
example  serve  the  purpose  of  this  distortion  of  the 
latent  content  so  that  it  is  not  recognised  by  the 
dreamer  in  the  manifest  content. 

Another  important  mechanism  of  distortion  is  dis- 
placement. This  mechanism  results  in  displacing 
the  emotion  from  the  place  where  it  belongs  to  some 
other  element  of  the  dream  and  thus  serving  to  dis- 
guise the  true  meaning.  A  patient,  for  example, 
dreamt  that  she  was  pushed  by  a  man  off  the  edge 
of  a  precipice  at  the  base  of  which  was  a  mass  of 
writhing  serpents.  In  relating  this  dream  the  im- 
pression was  derived  that  she  had  been  very  much 
frightened,  but  on  analysis  quite  the  contrary  de- 
veloped. There  had  been  no  special  feeling  of  fear 
at  all.  The  falling  from  the  precipice  into  the  mass 
of  serpents  was  symbolic  of  a  moral  fall  and  should 
have  created  a  great  amount  of  emotion,  but  no  such 
emotion  existed  in  the  dream,  and  therefore  the 
dream  is  distorted  to  that  extent  and  the  possibility 
of  its  true  meaning  being  known  by  the  dreamer  is 
greatly  interfered  with.  The  telling  of  the  dream, 
however,  which  led  to  the  impression  that  great  fear 
had  as  a  matter  of  fact  been  experienced  was  the 
result  of  another  mechanism,  namely  the  mechanism 
of  secondary  elaboration.  After  the  dreamer  awoke 
and  remembered  the  dream,  the  dream  naturally  ap- 
peared senseless  unless  the  emotion  of  fear  or  horror 
were  attached  to  the  experience,  and  therefore  the 
waking  consciousness  in  order  to  make  the  whole 


132  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

thing  appear  logical  attached  the  appropriate  emo- 
tion where  it  belonged,  giving  meaning  to  what  was 
otherwise  without  meaning. 

In  describing  the  above  mechanisms  of  dream 
formation  it  has  been  seen  how  the  latent  content  is 
disguised  before  it  is  permitted  to  appear  in  the 
manifest  content.  This  disguise  is  brought  about  by 
what  Freud  terms  the  endopsychic  censor  of  con- 
sciousness. The  censor  permits  only  certain  expres- 
sions to  get  into  the  dream.  The  thoughts  of  the 
patient  can  appear  only  under  certain  restrictions 
and  under  certain  disguises.  The  distortion,  the 
displacement,  the  symbolisation  serve  the  purposes 
of  this  disguise. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that  it  is  simply 
necessary  to  read  the  symbols  of  the  dream  in  order 
to  understand  fully  the  latent  content.  The  dream 
is  a  tremendous  condensation  of  a  vast  amount  of 
material,  and  all  of  the  elements  as  they  appear  in 
the  manifest  content  of  the  dream  are  determined 
from  many  sources — they  are  over  determined.  For 
example,  an  individual  may  appear  in  the  dream 
who  is  entirely  unknown  to  the  dreamer,  a  person 
who  does  not  look  like  any  one  he  has  ever  seen  be- 
fore. An  analysis  of  the  dream,  however,  may  show 
that  if  the  characteristics  of  this  person  are  sepa- 
rately considered  each  of  them  belongs  to  a  person 
known  to  the  dreamer  and  that  the  dream  person 
therefore  is  a  sort  of  composite  of  these  several  char- 
acters which  are  united  in  this  way  to  serve  the  pur- 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  133 

poses  of  the  dream.  An  example  will  illustrate  some 
of  these  mechanisms. 

The  patient  dreamt  that  she  was  in  a  place  of 
amusement,  something  like  a  circus,  where  there  were 
crowds  of  people.  She  met  many  strange  people, 
among  others,  a  young  lady  to  whom  she  took  quite  a 
fancy,  and  who  invited  her  to  stop  in  her  home  on 
the  way  back  from  the  fair.  She  met  there  this 
young  lady's  mother,  and  they  were  very  pleasant 
and  nice  to  her,  so  that  she  in  turn  invited  the  young 
lady  to  a  party  at  her  house.  She  seemed  to  be  liv- 
ing in  her  present  home.  She  also  invited  a  man 
to  the  party  at  the  same  time,  a  man  with  red  hair 
and  blue  eyes.  Some  time  elapsed,  and  then  she 
called  on  this  girl,  by  invitation,  for  the  afternoon. 
During  this  intervening  time  the  girl  had  married 
and  had  a  baby,  and  remodelled  her  home  inside  and 
out,  and  put  in  all  modern  conveniences.  She  took 
her  through  and  showed  her  everything.  They  had 
a  pleasant  time,  and  she  again  invited  the  young  lady 
to  her  home  and  told  her  to  bring  the  baby  along, 
and  she  also  invited  the  red-haired  man,  who  also 
had  married  in  the  meantime  and  had  a  child.  He 
did  not  let  her  know,  however,  that  he  had  married, 
as  it  would  be  a  surprise.  She  and  he  were  both 
surprised.  The  children  were  about  the  same  age, 
and  everybody  had  a  good  time  at  the  party. 

In  the  course  of  the  analysis  of  this  dream  it  ap- 
pears that  she  had  forgotten  to  tell  all  of  it.  The 
portion  forgotten  was  that  there  was  another  man  in 


134  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  dream,  a  dark-haired  man,  but  she  didn't  seem 
to  pay  any  attention  to  him.  He  seemed  to  have 
his  back  toward  her.  As  far  as  she  could  tell,  he 
looked  like  two  men  that  she  had  liked. 

We  have  here  an  example  of  condensation  and 
identification.  The  young  lady  that  the  dreamer  met 
at  the  place  of  entertainment,  and  whom  she  became 
friendly  with,  really  represented  herself  in  the 
dream.  Let  me  give  the  reasons  why,  and  some  of 
these  reasons  are  based  upon  things  which  I  had 
learned  in  the  analysis  previous  to  the  dream. 

She  had,  a  few  years  previously,  had  a  love  affair 
with  a  young  man  with  red  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and 
he  had  asked  her  to  marry  him.  She  had  refused, 
however,  because  she  thought  her  duties  at  home 
required  her  to  help  care  for  her  mother  and  sup- 
port the  household  while  her  brother  was  going 
through  college.  She  had  been  introduced  to  this 
young  man  by  another  gentleman,  and  when  this 
other  gentleman  found  that  matters  were  getting 
serious  between  the  two,  he  had,  unknown  to  her,  a 
conversation  with  the  red-haired  man  in  which  he 
advised  him  not  to  marry  the  patient,  as  he  did  not 
think  they  were  suited  to  each  other.  Sometime 
after  her  refusal,  the  man  who  introduced  them 
called  her  up  on  the  telephone  one  evening  and  told 
her  that  the  red-haired  man  was  being  married  that 
night.  This  was,  as  may  be  imagined,  a  consider- 
able emotional  experience.  The  dark  man  who  stood 
with  his  back  to  her  in  the  dream  was  the  man  who 
had  introduced  them,  and  this  illustrates  the  point 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  135 

that  Freud  makes  that  the  little  addendum  to  the 
dream  which  had  been  forgotten  in  the  original  ac- 
count, usually  contains  the  key  to  the  situation.  The 
young  woman  with  the  baby  in  the  dream,  who  repre- 
sents, I  say,  the  patient,  is  very  completely  disguised, 
so  that  the  identification  is  not  discernible.  The 
patient  herself  was  a  woman  with  dark  eyes  and 
black  hair.  The  young  lady  of  the  dream  was  a 
decided  blonde.  In  addition  to  this,  the  dream  girl 
was  slender,  while  the  patient  is  decidedly  the  op- 
posite (simple  distortion  by  opposites).  The  dream 
girl  was  not  accompanied  by  her  husband,  and  he 
did  not  appear  to  enter  at  any  point  in  the  dream, 
either  by  reference  or  supposition  or  otherwise.  In- 
cidentally too,  the  red-haired  man  was  not  accom- 
panied by  his  wife,  and  his  wife  appeared  also  to  be 
as  absent  in  fact  as  the  husband  of  the  girl.  The 
girl  also  wore  a  tailor-made  suit  of  a  brown  colour. 
The  patient  had  had  a  tailor-made  suit  herself,  but 
not  of  that  colour,  but  she  had  had  another  dress  that 
was  of  the  same  colour  but  was  not  tailor-made,  and 
this  dress  which  was  the  colour  that  the  dream  girl 
wore  was  the  dress  that  she  had  worn  upon  the 
eventful  night  when  she  had  had  the  disagreeable 
sexual  experience  which  resulted  in  her  psychosis. 
The  patient  also  says  that  the  dream  girl  acted  as 
she  might  have  acted,  and  had  in  the  dream  what  she 
really  wanted.  Further  complications  are  that  the 
dream  girl  looked  like  the  sister  of  the  red-haired 
man,  who  was  a  woman  who  wanted  to  marry  but 
did  not  want  children  or  to  keep  house,  while  the 


136  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sister  of  the  dark-haired  man  who  introduced  them 
had  a  light-haired  baby  boy.  She  experienced  the 
feeling  also  that  she  was  worried  in  the  dream  be- 
cause both  of  these  people  had  babies  and  she  did 
not,  nor  did  she  have  any  sweetheart,  nor  in  fact  did 
she  have  anything.  The  censor  of  consciousness 
made  the  disguise  so  complete  that  the  patient  could 
not  recognise  it  and  was  therefore  not  disturbed  by 
it.  Further  reasons  for  believing  that  this  was  an 
identification  are,  in  the  first  place,  the  patient  de- 
scribes herself  in  the  dream  as  being  present  at  the 
party  but  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  her,  nobody 
spoke  to  her,  and  the  events  of  the  party  went  on 
with  apparently  no  one  having  anything  to  do  with 
her — she  was  merely  an  onlooker.  In  other  words, 
the  dream  had  put  her  in  the  position  where  she  could 
view  herself  and  her  acts.  Then  the  dream  girl 
had  no  husband,  and  the  dream  man  had  no  wife. 
The  two  babies  in  the  dream  now  have  to  be  ac- 
counted for,  and  further  emphasize  the  process  of 
identification  which  is  a  phenomenon  of  the  broader 
process  of  condensation,  and  still  another  process, 
that  of  decomposition.  She  had  really  been  in  love 
with  this  man  and  had  regretted  that  she  did  not 
marry  him.  She  therefore  had  the  natural  woman's 
wish  of  wanting  his  baby.  The  baby  of  the  red- 
haired  man  in  the  dream  had  red  hair  and  blue  eyes. 
It  is  consequently  evident  that  it  is  his  baby,  but 
how  about  the  other  baby  of  apparently  the  same 
age?  The  dark  man  who  introduced  the  two  had 
a  sister  who  had  a  light-haired  baby  boy.  Now  this 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  137 

boy  the  patient  had  been  very  fond  of.  It  is  there- 
fore quite  evident  that  the  two  babies  represented 
a  decomposition  product.  The  red-haired  baby  is  the 
wish  baby  of  the  man  with  whom  she  was  in  love, 
the  light-haired  baby  is  the  real  baby  for  whom  the 
patient  had  an  affection.  The  patient,  therefore, 
wished  for  the  baby  of  the  man  she  loved,  for  whom 
she  might  have  the  love  and  affection  that  she  had 
learned  to  have  for  the  real  baby  that  had  been  in 
her  experience.  The  dream  therefore  expresses  a 
wish  for  marriage  to  the  man  loved  and  a  desire  for 
his  baby. 

Another  very  important  type  of  dream  to  under- 
stand because  of  its  very  great  importance  to  the 
dreamer  is  illustrated  by  the  following  example :  A 
young  man  dreamt  that  he  stood  before  a  coffin  in 
which  his  grandfather  lay  dead  and  as  he  stood 
there  his  grandfather's  body  moved  and  he  turned 
his  head  to  one  side  and  appeared  to  be  uneasy.  I 
asked  the  dreamer  what  his  grandfather  meant  to 
him  and  his  reply  was  that  his  grandfather  was  his 
ideal  man.  So  the  meaning  of  the  dream  is  plain. 
It  meant  for  the  dreamer  that  his  ideal  was  dead, 
but  that  it  did  not  rest  easy  in  death.  In  other  words, 
though  dead  it  stirs  and  would  live  again.  The 
dreamer  instantly  recognised  the  truth  of  this  inter- 
pretation. He  is  a  brilliantly  endowed,  active,  keen- 
minded  young  man,  cursed  with  enough  money  so 
that  he  does  not  have  to  put  his  nose  to  the  grind- 
stone and  do  the  daily  task.  He  therefore  leads  a 
dilettante  existence  in  which  he  finds  no  true,  ade- 


138  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

quate  expression.  His  ideal  is  really  dead,  but  in 
its  death  he  is  very  unhappy.  Here  we  see  not  only 
the  meaning  of  the  dream,  but  the  tremendous  im-' 
portant  teleological  significance  of  it.  The  dream 
says  to  the  dreamer,  "If  you  would  be  happy  be  up 
and  doing,  lead  a  life  of  usefulness,  a  life  of  accom- 
plishment, and  only  in  such  a  life  can  you  find  fulfil- 
ment. ' ' 

Another  example  to  show  how  the  real  vital  worry 
of  the  individual  may  be  read  in  the  symbolism  of 
the  dream.  The  following  is  the  dream,  or  perhaps 
a  waking  vision,  for  the  individual  claims  that  she 
was  at  least  half  awake,  if  not  quite  awake  when  it 
appeared.  The  percipient  is  a  lady  who  some 
months  ago  while  staying  in  Paris  saw  the  follow- 
ing vision  upon  awaking  one  morning.  From  her 
bed  where  she  lay  she  could  look  into  the  next  room 
and  see  the  piano.  Standing  behind  the  piano, 
therefore  only  with  face  and  shoulders  visible  she 
saw  a  woman.  This  woman  was  very  pale,  with 
dark  hair,  and  had  a  brown  hat  on.  That  was  all 
there  was  of  the  vision.  The  woman  did  not  look 
like  any  one  she  knew,  and  she  had  absolutely  no 
conception  that  this  vision  had  any  meaning  other 
than  that  probably  the  drapery  was  arranged  in  a 
certain  way  so  that  it  easily  fell  into  form  and  made 
the  vision,  as  we  know  it  often  does.  But  that  can- 
not of  course  be  an  explanation.  There  must  be' 
some  reason  why  it  took  just  exactly  that  particular 
form.  So  my  first  question  was,  "What  woman  do 
you  know  who  has  a  pale  face?"  Instantly  she 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  139 

mentioned  the  name  of  a  young  lady,  antl  I  said, 
"How  about  the  brown  hat?"  and  she  said,  "I  al- 
ways think  of  her  in  brown  because  that  is  most  be- 
coming to  her. '  '  I  said  then, ' '  What  does  this  young 
woman  mean  to  you?"  Her  reply  was  that  she  al- 
ways thought  of  her  wonderful  power  of  mind. 
She  thought  of  her  as  under  head  control,  too  much 
perhaps  for  her  own  good.  Now  the  meaning  of  the 
vision  is  clear.  The  vision  is  that  of  a  woman  who 
symbolises  for  her  one  who  is  under  head  control 
as  opposed  to  heart  control,  and  therefore  she  sees 
only  the  head  of  the  woman  in  the  vision.  The 
thing  that  was  in  her  mind  therefore  is  symbolised 
in  this  way.  Why?  The  percipient  is  a  widow 
whose  children  have  reached  adulthood  and  there- 
fore no  longer  require  very  much  care  on  her  part. 
She  had  only  just  sufficient  means  to  take  care  of 
herself  and  absolutely  no  outlet  for  her  activities 
or  affections.  She  is  temporarily  stranded,  so  to 
speak,  like  a  piece  of  driftwood  on  the  shore.  She 
would  have  an  interest  in  life  and  the  dream  shows 
that  her  aspirations  are  reaching  out  for  a  head  in- 
terest now  that  all  those  for  whom  she  has  affection 
have  been  settled  in  life.  The  dream  deals  with  the 
problem  of  her  aspirations,  her  Teachings  out  to- 
ward higher  things  in  life,  her  efforts  at  spiritual 
sublimation. 

We  begin  to  get  here  into  a  still  deeper  meaning 
of  the  dream.  We  touch  here  upon  its  ideological 
significance.  Here  not  only  is  the  dream  wish-ful- 
filling, but  it  gives  us  an  idea  of  just  what  kind  of 


140  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

thing  it  is  that  will  put  matters  right.  It  points  the 
way  in  which  that  individual  must  go  in  order  to 
find  fulfilment,  and  it  therefore  becomes  of  tremen- 
dous value  in  offering  hints,  in  fact  definite  direc- 
tions for  the  regulation  of  the  life  of  the  patient. 

This  teleological  character  of  the  dream  and  some 
other  points  of  interest  and  importance  are  well  illus- 
trated by  the  dream  of  a  patient  who  thought  herself 
standing  in  front  of  a  convent.  Through  a  closed 
window,  she  saw  a  priest,  her  brother,  putting  on  his 
surplice  to  go  to  hear  confessions.  The  closed  win- 
dow prevented  them  from  talking.  She  started  to 
go  inside  to  hear  him  better  but  did  not  succeed  in 
reaching  him.  She  awoke  very  much  depressed. 

Many  years  before  the  patient  had  been  guilty  of 
an  indiscretion  which  was  the  occasion  of  her  psy- 
chosis, a  periodical  depression.  Although  she  had 
fully  confessed  she  had  always  felt  that  she  ought 
to  confess  to  her  brother.  The  brother  died,  how- 
ever, without  her  having  accomplished  her  task  in 
this  respect.  The  dream  shows  all  this  and  indi- 
cates very  clearly,  by  the  closed  window,  the  obstacle, 
her  brother's  death,  that  stands  in  the  way  of  re- 
solving her  conflict. 

Maeder7  believes  that  the  dream  work  itself  en- 
deavours to  accomplish  the  resolution  of  the  con- 
flict and  that  the  emotional  state  of  the  dreamer 
on  awaking  signifies  whether  it  has  or  has  not  been 
successful.  He  says:  "In  the  dream  there  is  at 

7  Maeder,  A.  E. :  The  Dream  Problem.  Nervous  and  Mental  Dis- 
ease, Monograph  Series,  No.  22. 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  141 

work  a  preparatory  arranging  function  which  be- 
longs to  the  work  of  adjustment."  In  this  case  the 
fact  that  the  dreamer  awoke  very  much  depressed 
is  clearly  indicative  that  the  dream  work  had  not 
been  able  to  bring  the  conflict  to  a  satisfactory  ter- 
mination. 

Do  dreams  come  true?  is  a  question  frequently 
asked.  The  answer  is  really  quite  simple.  The 
dream  itself  represents  a  wish-fulfilment  and  if  the 
wish  is  sufficiently  strong  to  force  the  individual  to 
try  to  bring  it  to  pass  it  is  perfectly  easy  to  see 
that  the  dream  may  come  true,  that  therefore  the 
dream  may  have  a  prelusory  function  which  may 
often  be  quite  clearly  defined.  A  patient,  a  surgeon, 
has  a  dream  which  clearly  indicates  his  jealousy  of 
a  more  successful  confrere.  In  other  words  he  en- 
vies him,  wishes  he  had  his  push  and  efficiency.  To 
the  extent  that  he  keeps  progressing  in  his  ability 
as  a  surgeon  the  dream  will  come  true. 

The  prelusory  character  of  the  dream  is,  however, 
often  not  so  clear  as  this.  The  woman,  whose  case 
was  just  cited,  wished  to  confess  to  her  brother. 
But  her  brother  was  dead.  How  can  such  a  wish 
as  that  be  brought  to  pass?  She  succeeded  by  sym- 
bolising the  physician  as  her  brother  and  confessing 
to  him.  This  is  a  solution  of  the  conflict  by  resym- 
bolization  in  the  sense  of  Bertschinger.8  The 
process  here  is  not  quite  so  plain  but  it  is  plain  how 
the  dream  expressed  both  the  wish  and  the  failure  to 

s  Bertschinger,  H. :  Processes  of  Recovery  in  Schizophrenics. 
The  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  III.  No.  2,  April,  1915. 


142 

bring  it  to  pass.  It  is  probable  that  in  such  ex- 
pressions as  this  we  have  hints  of  the  very  greatest 
therapeutic  value. 

To  summarise :  we  have  come  to  see  that  the  dream 
is  a  wish-fulfilling  dramatisation.  Although  words 
and  sentences  and  speech  occur  in  dreams  they  are 
for  the  most  part  visual  in  content.  We  have  further 
seen  that  the  dream  takes  its  immediate  origin  from 
the  events  of  the  previous  waking  state  and  uses 
these  events  to  clothe  the  dream  thoughts.  These 
thoughts  which  constitute  the  latent  content  of  the 
dream  are  disguised  in  the  process  of  appearing  in 
the  manifest  content,  principally  by  the  mechanisms 
of  distortion  and  displacement,  and  finally  by  the 
secondary  elaboration  of  the  waking  consciousness. 
These  thoughts  appear  as  a  result  of  these  distort- 
ing mechanisms  as  a  rule  in  a  highly  symbolic  form, 
and  it  is  necessary  to  learn  to  read  the  symbols  in 
order  to  understand  the  dream.  As  a  result  of  this 
distortion  the  dream  thoughts  as  they  appear  in 
the  manifest  content  have  a  surface  value  quite  dif- 
ferent from  their  real  value,  so  that  the  real  dream 
thoughts  undergo  in  the  dream  a  "transvaluation 
of  values. "  The  emotions,  however,  remain  the 
same,  but  are  displaced  in  the  manifest  content  of 
the  dream.  So  we  find  experiences  that  should  be 
emotional  without  emotion,  and  inconsequential  hap- 
penings emotionally  ladened.  This  latter  circum- 
stance has  led  to  the  generalisation  that  the  affect  is 
the  only  truth  of  the  dream.  The  reason  for  the 
distortion  and  disguising  of  the  dream  thoughts  be- 


DREAM  MECHANISMS  143 

fore  they  appear  in  the  manifest  content  is  that  they 
refer  to  desires  or  wishes  of  the  individual  which 
have  been  repressed  as  being  inacceptable  to  the 
waking  consciousness.  One  of  the  functions  of  the 
dream  is  to  conserve  sleep.  Therefore  the  endo- 
psychic  censor  of  consciousness  insists  upon  the  dis- 
guise of  these  repressed  desires,  otherwise  by  their 
surprising  or  perhaps  horrifying  non-conformity 
with  the  percipient's  waking  consciousness  they 
would  cause  him  to  awake.  There  are  a  few  dreams 
which  show  the  sleep-conserving  wish-fulfilling 
mechanisms  with  regard  to  matters  that  are  not  re- 
pressed and  therefore  not  distorted,  more  particu- 
larly such  dreams  as  the  so-called  "convenience 
dreams,"  a  dream  for  example  in  which  a  person 
who  is  thirsty  at  night  dreams  of  drinking  quanti- 
ties of  water,  thereby  slaking  his  thirst  and  con- 
tinuing to  sleep. 

In  addition  to  the  above  characteristics  of  the 
dream,  Freud,  by  a  series  of  exquisite  analyses,  has 
sought  to  demonstrate  that  the  dream  can  arise  only 
on  the  basis  of  infantile  repressed  material,  in  other 
words  that  the  wishes  that  are  in  or  near  to  con- 
sciousness must  touch  at  some  point  and  harmonise 
with  the  repressed,  long-forgotten  infantile  desires, 
and  that  it  is  only  when  this  situation  arises  that  a 
dream  occurs  and  that  the  dream  represents  the  ful- 
filment of  both  wishes. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above,  therefore,  that  the 
dream  shows  what  is  really  going  on  in  the  person- 
ality, that  through  it  it  is  possible  to  attain  to  the 


144  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

real  thoughts  of  the  individual,  and  that  if  it  is  pos- 
sible to  analyse  the  dream,  not  only  will  an  immense 
amount  of  material  be  uncovered  which  would  be 
largely  hidden  otherwise,  but  that  it  is  possible  to 
penetrate  to  the  very  depths  of  the  personality,  even 
into  the  realm  of  the  unconscious,  the  long  since 
forgotten,  the  infantile.  In  the  neuroses,  the  psy- 
choneuroses,  and  the  psychoses  this  sort  of  informa- 
tion is  of  the  utmost  importance  and  is  the  only 
way  in  which  one  can  get  at  an  understanding  of 
the  symptoms  which  on  the  surface  appear  so  illogi- 
cal and  unmeaning.  The  analysis  of  dreams,  there- 
fore, becomes  a  matter  of  vital  importance  in  dealing 
with  mental  disorders. 


CHAPTEE  VII 
THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE 

In  the  preceding  chapters  the  more  important 
mechanisms  of  distortion  have  been  discussed  that 
result  in  a  transvaluation  of  values  of  the  psychic 
content  and  many  illustrations  have  been  given  by 
dreams  and  in  the  chapter  on  symbolism  to  show 
how  these  transvalued  values  come  to  symbolic  ex- 
pression. Of  prime  importance  is  the  understanding 
of  this  play  of  forces  as  they  touch  the  relations  of 
the  developing  child  to  the  members  of  the  family 
who  immediately  surround  it  during  the  first  years 
of  its  life. 

As  Fiske  1  long  ago  pointed  out,  one  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  an  advanced  civilisation  is  the  pro- 
longation of  the  period  of  infancy,  the  period  of 
helplessness  of  the  child.  This  tends  to  keep  the 
parents  together  for  longer  and  longer  periods  which 
tend  more  and  more  to  permanency  for  when  the 
older  children  grow  up  there  are  still  younger  ones 
needing  this  protection.  Then  when  the  parent  dies 
the  family  unit  is  kept  intact  by  the  taking  over  of 
the  responsibilities  for  its  maintenance  by  the  oldest, 

i  Fiske,  John :  "Outlines  of  Cosmic  Philosophy,"  Houghton, 
Mifllin  and  Company,  Boston  and  New  York,  1894. 

145 


146  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

bravest  or  most  sagacious  male.  Thus  grows  up 
a  group  that  is  bound  together  by  internal  bonds  of 
affection  and  interest  that  are  stronger  than  the  ties 
that  ally  it  to  other  groups  with  whom,  however,  it 
may  combine  for  mutual  protection.  These  bonds 
not  only  become  stronger  during  successive  epochs, 
but,  enduring  from  birth  to  death  they  acquire  a 
traditional  value,  passing  on  from  generation  to 
generation  and  so  building  up  a  body  of  customs 
(mores)  which  make  certain  demands  in  the  way 
of  "  setting  up  permanent  reciprocal  necessities  of 
behaviour  among  the  members  of  the  group ;  in  this 
way  the  ultimate  test  of  right  and  wrong  action 
came  to  be  the  welfare  of  the  community,  instead 
of  the  welfare  of  the  individual."  Fiske  further 
states  a  most  important  corollary  of  this  process 
by  adding  "the  long  process  of  social  evolution,  thus 
inaugurated,  has  all  along  reacted  upon  individual 
evolution,  by  increasing  the  power  of  mental  repre- 
sentation, and  nourishing  sympathy  at  the  expense 
of  egoism. " 

This  gradual  development  of  the  family  unit  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  impressions  that 
are  stamped  upon  the  child  mind  during  his  period 
of  infancy  as  a  member  of  the  family  group  are 
pregnant  with  the  possibilities  for  his  future  suc- 
cess or  failure,  they  are  at  the  foundation  of  his 
later  expressed  traits  of  character. 

Every  force  is  equally  powerful  for  good  or  bad, 
energy  which  may  be  used  for  building  up  may,  in 
the  same  degree,  be  used  for  tearing  down,  and  so 


THE  FAMILY  KOMANCE  147 

the  knitting  together  of  the  members  of  the  family 
that  has  had  so  much  to  do  with  the  possibilities  of 
social  progress  may,  by  fostering  dependency, 
through  excessive  solicitude  or  prolongation  of  over- 
sight into  adulthood,  destroy  that  capacity  for  indi- 
vidual initiative  upon  which  progress  likewise 
depends. 

In  the  life  history  of  every  individual  who  grows 
to  adulthood  there  comes  a  time  when  he  must 
emancipate  himself  from  the  thraldom  of  the  home. 
He  must  break  away  from  his  infantile  moorings,  go 
forth  into  the  world  of  reality  and  win  there  a  place 
for  himself.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  a  mere  circum- 
stantial leaving  of  the  home,  but  an  actual  growing 
away  from  it  in  feeling  so  that  there  remains  no 
crippling  attachment  to  interfere  with  personal  free- 
dom of  expression.  He  must  leave  it  in  his  feelings, 
he  must  put  aside  his  childhood,  put  aside  his  infan- 
tile attachments  and  conquer  his  own  world.  While 
this  is  necessary  for  the  fullest  development  it  is 
extremely  painful  and  many  persons  never  accom- 
plish it  at  all.  They  are  the  future  neurotics. 

The  previous  chapters  have  prefaced  the  way  for 
an  understanding  of  how  the  protection  of  the  home 
may  be  retained  in  later  life  by  a  symbolisation  of 
the  persons  or  things  in  the  environment  to  repre- 
sent features  of  that  home  protection.  For  example, 
a  young  man  will  pick  out  a  woman  to  marry  who 
stands  symbolically  for  his  mother,  or  commonly  a 
young  woman  will  marry  a  man  who  represents 
symbolically  her  father.  In  this  way  a  hold  is  re- 


148  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

tained  on  the  protection  of  the  parents,  but  at  the 
expense  of  continuing  infantilism. 

In  order  that  the  effects  of  the  family  situation  on 
the  child  may  be  more  clearly  seen,  and  the  way  those 
effects  are  woven  into  the  character  understood,  it 
will  be  well  at  this  point  to  consider  what  has  been 
termed  the  "family  neurotic  romance."  The  adjec- 
tive neurotic  has  come  over  from  the  therapeusis  of 
the  neuroses.  One  of  the  facts  that  was  earliest 
appreciated  in  the  psychoanalytic  treatment  of  neu- 
rotics was  that  the  neurosis  represented  an  infantile 
attachment  to  the  family  situation.  It  is,  I  think, 
nevertheless  best  left  out.  We  all  go  through  the 
same  process  of  development.  Whether  we  become 
neurotics  or  not  is  not  dependent  upon  the  elements 
in  that  process  but  how  we  are  able  to  deal  with 
those  elements.  So  the  family  romance,  as  I  would 
prefer  to  call  it,  is  the  story  of  us  all,  in  our  rela- 
tions to  the  parents  or  their  surrogates,  and  of  our 
devices  to  develop  away  from  our  infantile  attach- 
ments to  true  adulthood.  Certain  mental  mechan- 
isms have  to  be  developed  to  suppress — repress — 
the  attachments  to  the  family  group  in  so  far  as 
they  are  crippling  and  interfere  with  that  measure 
of  individual  development  and  efficiency  which  en- 
able one  to  break  loose  from  its  protection  and  the 
feeling  of  security  which  it  offers,  and  go  forward 
into  the  world  of  reality,  self-reliant  and  capable  and 
form  a  new  group  in  which  the  same  problems,  the 
same  conflicts  will  find  similar  expressions  over  again 
but  with  the  added  possibility  that  the  end  result 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  149 

may  be  advanced,  just  a  little,  to  a  higher  plane  of 
cultural  development. 

The  prolongation  of  the  period  of  dependence 
upon  the  parents  is  at  once  the  cause  and  the  effect 
of  the  greater  demands  of  life  upon  the  individual 
who  must  therefore  take  longer  in  preparing  to  meet 
these  demands.  This  very  means,  however,  becomes 
dangerous  by  prolonging  the  feeling  of  security 
which  becomes  ever  more  difficult  to  cut  loose  from 
as  time  goes  on.  Individual  development  and  "herd 
instinct"  stand  ever  opposed  to  each  other,  the 
former  prompted  by  that  spirit  of  adventure  which 
would  reach  out  for  new  experiences  in  the  world  of 
reality,  the  latter,  the  repository  of  those  uncon- 
scious trends  upon  which  the  integrity  of  the  group 
depends. 

As  at  the  physiological  level  the  problem  of  the 
metabolism  of  carbohydrates  has  to  be  met  by  the 
development  of  certain  glands  and  their  secretions, 
so  at  the  psychological  level  the  problem  of  emanci- 
pation from  the  home  has  to  be  met  by  the  develop- 
ment of  certain  symbols  and  psychological  mechan- 
isms. The  further  ramifications  of  this  process  of 
emancipation  can  best  be  appreciated  by  a  consider- 
ation of  the  so-called  (Edipus  and  Electro,  Complexes. 

(Edipus  was  the  son  of  Laius,  King  of  Thebes  and 
of  Jocasta.  Laius  had  been  informed  by  the  oracle 
that  he  would  perish  at  the  hands  of  his  son.  Jo- 
casta was  accordingly  ordered  by  Laius  to  destroy 
her  son  as  soon  as  he  was  born  but  she  had  not  the 
courage  to  obey  this  command  but  instead  gave  it 


150  CHAKACTER  FORMATION 

to  one  of  her  domestics  with  orders  to  expose  him. 
The  servant  bored  the  child's  feet  and  hung  him 
by  the  heels,  with  a  twig,  from  a  tree  on  Mount 
Cithasron  where  he  was  found  by  one  of  the  shep- 
herds of  Polybus,  King  of  Corinth.  The  shepherd 
carried  him  home  where  Peribrea  the  wife  of  Poly- 
bus,  being  herself  without  children,  brought  him  up 
as  her  own  child.  The  boy  grew  up  to  be  very 
accomplished  and  the  envy  of  his  companions,  one 
of  whom  told  him  he  was  illegitimate.  Peribrea 
responded  to  his  questions  by  telling  him  his  doubts 
were  ill-founded  but  he  was  not  satisfied  and  went 
to  consult  the  oracle  at  Delphi.  He  was  told  not  to 
return  home  for  if  he  did  he  would  be  the  murderer 
of  his  father  and  the  husband  of  his  mother.  As 
the  home  of  Polybus  was  the  only  home  he  knew  he 
resolved  not  to  return  to  Corinth  so  set  out  towards 
Phocis.  On  the  road  he.  met  Laius  who  haughtily 
demanded  the  right  of  way.  CEdipus  refused  and 
after  a  short  dispute  a  contest  ensued  in  which  Laius 
was  killed.  Of  course  CEdipus  did  not  know  whom  he 
had  killed  and  so  continued  his  journey  being  at- 
tracted towards  Thebes  by  the  fame  of  the  Sphynx. 
This  monster  was  laying  waste  the  country  and  de- 
voured all  who  failed  to  answer  correctly  the  enig- 
mas he  proposed.  As  the  successful  solution  of  the 
riddle  proposed  would  result  in  the  death  of  the 
Sphynx,  Creon,  who  had  become  King  on  the  death 
of  Laius,  promised  his  crown  and  Jocasta  to  who- 
ever would  succeed.  CEdipus  succeeded.  The 
Sphynx  dashed  his  head  against  a  rock  and  perished, 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  151 

and  OEdipus  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Thebes,  and 
married  Jocasta  by  whom  he  had  two  sons  and  two 
daughters.  Some  years  after  a  plague  visited  the 
Theban  territories  and  the  oracle  declared  that  it 
would  cease  only  when  the  murderer  of  King  Laius 
had  been  banished  from  Boeotia.  CEdipus  resolved 
to  institute  the  most  careful  inquiries.  He  was  suc- 
cessful and  was  proved  to  be  the  murderer  of  his 
father.  This  discovery  was  soon  followed  by  the 
added  realisation  that  he  had  committed  incest  with 
his  mother.  In  his  great  grief  he  put  out  his  eyes 
as  unworthy  to  see  the  light  and  banished  himself 
from  Thebes.  The  oracle  had  been  fulfilled.  He 
was  led  by  his  daughter  Antigone  towards  Attica 
and  came  near  Colonus  where  there  was  a  fire  sacred 
to  the  Furies.  He  remembered  that  he  had  been 
doomed  by  the  oracle  to  die  in  such  a  place  and  to 
become  the  source  of  prosperity  to  the  country  in 
which  his  bones  were  buried.  He  sent  for  Theseus, 
king  of  the  country,  told  him  when  he  arrived  of  what 
had  been  ordained  and  walked  to  the  spot  where  he 
was  to  expire.  The  earth  opened  and  OEdipus  dis- 
appeared. 

This  is  the  story  of  CEdipus.  The  story  of  Electra 
runs  as  follows :  Clytemnestra  was  the  wife  of  Aga- 
memnon, king  of  Argos.  When  Agamemnon  went 
to  the  Trojan  war  Clytemnestra  contracted  an  in- 
trigue with  ^Egysthus,  whom  he  had  left  to  take  care 
of  his  domestic  affairs,  and  publicly  lived  with  him. 
Agamemnon  heard  of  this  and  returned  to  take  his 
revenge.  Clytemnestra  and  ^gysthus,  however, 


152  CHAKACTEE  FORMATION 

succeeded  in  surprising  him  and  murdered  both  him 
and  Cassandra  whom  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
Troy.  Orestes,  his  son,  would  have  shared  his 
father's  fate  but  for  his  sister  Electra  who  suc- 
ceeded in  removing  him  to  a  place  of  safety.  Sub- 
sequently she  incited  her  brother,  Orestes,  to  avenge 
her  father's  death  by  assassinating  his  mother 
Clytemnestra. 

These  two  stories  show,  the  (Edipus  story,  certain 
elements  in  the  relation  between  mother  and  son, 
the  Electra  story,  certain  elements  in  the  relation 
of  father  and  daughter,  which  it  is  important  to 
dilate  somewhat  upon. 

In  the  first  place,  the  mere  statement  that  a  story 
that  deals  with  the  murder  of  a  father  by  the  son 
and  then  the  incest  of  that  son  with  the  mother,  or 
a  story  that  deals  with  a  daughter  who  caused  the 
murder  of  her  own  mother  because  that  mother  had 
robbed  her  of  her  father,  should  contain  elements 
that  were  worth  while  considering  for  the  purpose 
of  throwing  light  upon  the  relations  between  parents 
and  children  will  be  received  with  horror  by  the 
average  person  unacquainted  with  psychoanalytic 
literature. 

In  order  to  become  properly  oriented  towards  the 
fundamental  nature  of  the  attachment  of  the  child 
to  the  several  members  of  the  family  it  is  necessary 
to  bear  in  mind  two  principles  that  are  controlling. 
In  the  first  place  this  attachment  is  a  growth  which 
has  its  beginnings  as  soon  as  the  child  is  born,  its 
ground  plan  is  laid  down  in  the  first  years  of  de- 


THE  FAMILY  EOMANCE  153 

velopment,  its  driving  force  comes  from  the  great 
region  of  the  unconscious.  The  way  in  which  the 
child  first  learns  to  love  those  about  him  is  the  pro- 
totype for  all  future  loves,  the  paradigm  into  which 
they  must  fit. 

And  secondly :  the  great  creative  force,  the  libido, 
in  the  last  analysis,  has  only  two  problems — the 
problem  of  self-preservation  and  the  problem  of  the 
perpetuation  of  the  race.  The  libido  devoted  to  the 
solution  of  the  first  of  these  problems  is  the  nutri- 
tive libido,  that  devoted  to  the  latter  is  the  sexual 
libido.  All  love  has  as  its  fundamental  object  race 
perpetuation  and  is  therefore  sexual,  it  matters  not 
how  far  removed  its  particular  manifestation  may 
seem  to  be  from  actual  concrete  sexual  expression. 
We  must,  therefore,  be  prepared  to  find,  and  it  has 
been  so  found,  that  the  attachment  of  the  child  to 
those  about  is  fundamentally  a  sex  attachment,  a 
fact  which  is  at  once  brought  out  by  the  fact  that, 
in  general,  the  child  is  more  strongly  attached  to 
the  parent  of  the  opposite  sex.  Herein  lies  the  basis 
of  the  problem  of  incest,  a  problem  that  has  vexed 
all  peoples  throughout  time  and  has  been  the  occa- 
sion of  some  of  the  most  important  and  powerful 
of  social  institutions. 

Incest  has  always  been  practised  to  some  extent. 
But  while  to-day  the  mere  thought  of  such  relations 
fills  us  with  horror  there  is  much  evidence  that  it 
was  not  always  so.  In  fact,  under  certain  circum- 
stances at  least,  incest  was  not  only  permitted,  but 
was  the  accepted  mode  of  procedure.  In  those  tribes 


154  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

in  which  descent  was  along  the  female  line  a  man 
was  king  only  in  virtue  of  the  fact  that  he  was  hus- 
band of  the  queen.  When  the  queen  died  he  would 
automatically  have  ceased  to  reign  unless  he  married 
the  heir  to  the  throne,  who  in  such  a  case  was  his 
own  daughter,  and  that  is  exactly  what  he  did. 
Public  feeling  must  indeed  have  been  very  differently 
oriented  towards  incest  in  those  days  when  kings 
set  such  an  example,  but  we  must  not  forget  that 
among  the  primitive  people  who  live  among  us,  the 
idiots,  imbeciles,  and  feeble-minded,  incest  is  often 
freely  practised. 

That  the  problem  of  incest  has  always  interested 
mankind,  however,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  among 
the  most  primitive  peoples  known  there  already  exist 
certain  marriage  taboos  which  when  studied  are 
easily  shown  to  be  directed  against  incest.  In  fact 
the  whole  complex  social  institution  of  totemism  has 
as  one  of  its  main  ends  the  solution  of  the  incest 
problem.  To  put  it  in  a  few  words,  totemism  divides 
the  tribes  into  separate  phratries,  and  marriages 
are  strictly  prohibited  between  members  of  the  same 
phratry.  We  have  already  indicated,  briefly 
(Chapter  III),  how  the  development  of  the  tote- 
mistic  scheme  by  the  successive  splitting  of  the  tribe 
into  smaller  and  smaller  groups  had  the  result  of 
more  and  more  effectually  preventing  the  marriage 
of  near  kin. 

It  is  both  interesting  and  instructive  to  learn  that 
the  incest  taboos  arose,  in  some  instances  at  least, 
among  people  who  had  not  yet  discovered  the  rela- 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  155 

tion  between  impregnation  and  sexual  intercourse. 
Its  roots  in  the  child  similarly  antedate  any  such 
knowledge. 

We  have  seen  how  the  infant,  confronted  by  the 
insistent  demands  of  reality,  longs  to  return  to  its 
previous  state  of  protection  as  it  existed  in  the  ma- 
ternal body.  In  other  words  how  it  seeks  to  with- 
draw from  reality,  to  escape  its  demands.  Now  our 
horror  of  incest  is  our  conscious  expression  of  our 
desire  to  do  that  very  sort  of  thing. 

The  thesis  of  this  chapter  is  that  in  the  life  his- 
tory of  every  individual  who  grows  to  adulthood 
there  comes  a  time  when  he  must  emancipate  himself 
from  the  thraldom  of  the  home.  He  must  break 
away  from  his  infantile  moorings,  and  go  forth  into 
the  world  of  reality  and  win  there  a  place  for  him- 
self. This  is  not  to  be  understood  to  mean  that  he 
must  simply  physically  leave  the  home,  that  is  not 
at  all  necessary,  but  he  must  leave  it  in  his  feelings, 
he  must  put  aside  his  childhood,  put  aside  his  infan- 
tile attachments  and  conquer  his  own  world.  While 
this  is  necessary  it  is  extremely  painful,  and  many 
persons  never  accomplish  it.  They  are  the  future 
neurotics. 

Incest,  then,  from  this  broad  standpoint  is  really 
the  attraction  to  the  home  that  keeps  us  infantile, 
it  represents  the  anchor  that  must  be  weighed  if 
we  are  ever  to  fulfil  the  best  that  is  in  us.  Incest, 
however,  as  it  appears  to  us  in  our  everyday  think- 
ing is  clothed  in  the  garments  of  adult  sexuality  and 
excites  loathing,  horror,  disgust.  Why?  Because 


156  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  path  of  escape  from  reality  is  broad  and  easy  to 
find,  it  is  the  path  downwards  and  backwards  by 
which  the  individual  tries  to  retain  the  protection 
of  the  parents  and  the  home,  and  so  something  of 
his  old  safety.  It  is  a  path  open  to  all  of  us,  and 
because  it  is  so  easy  to  take  we  must  defend  our- 
selves from  it  with  the  strongest  of  emotions.  The 
horror  we  feel  for  incest  in  this  sense  does  not  mean 
that  we  are  so  far  removed  from  its  possibility,  it 
rather  means  that  we  sense  it  as  a  real  present 
danger,  and  are  obliged  to  bring  up  all  our  reserves 
to  beat  it  back.  Herein  lies  the  pragmatic  value  of 
the  antipathic  emotions. 

That  a  clearer  idea  may  be  had  of  the  exact  sym- 
bols and  mechanisms  that  are  used  to  effect  this 
emancipation  I  will  take  up  the  several  specific  rela- 
tionships seriatim.  And  first : 

The  Relations  of  Children  to  Parents. — I  can  do  no 
better  in  outlining  this  problem  than  to  quote 
Rank's 2  summary  of  the  family  romance  in  his 
masterly  analysis  of  the  myth  of  the  birth  of  the 
hero. 

' '  The  detachment  of  the  growing  individual  from 
the  authority  of  the  parents  is  one  of  the  most  neces- 
sary, but  also  one  of  the  most  painful  achievements 
of  evolution.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  for  this 
detachment  to  take  place,  and  it  may  be  assumed 
that  all  normal  grown  individuals  have  accomplished 
it  to  a  certain  extent.  Social  progress  is  essentially 

2  Rank,  0. :  The  Myth  of  the  Birth  of  the  Hero.  Nervous  and 
Mental  Disease  Monograph  Series,  No.  18. 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  157 

based  upon  this  opposition  between  the  two  genera- 
tions. On  the  other  hand,  there  exists  a  class  of 
neurotics  whose  condition  indicates  that  they  have 
failed  to  solve  this  very  problem.  For  the  young 
child,  the  parents  are  in  the  first  place  the  sole  au- 
thority, and  the  source  of  all  faith.  To  resemble 
them,  i.e.,  the  progenitor  of  the  same  sex;  to  grow  up 
like  father  and  mother,  this  is  the  most  intense  and 
portentous  wish  of  the  child's  early  years.  Progres- 
sive intellectual  development  naturally  brings  it  about 
that  the  child  gradually  becomes  acquainted  with 
the  category  to  which  the  parents  belong.  Other 
parents  become  known  to  the  child,  who  compares 
these  with  his  own,  and  thereby  becomes  justified  in 
doubting  the  incomparability  and  uniqueness  with 
which  he  had  invested  them.  Trifling  occurrences 
in  the  life  of  the  child,  which  induce  a  mood  of  dis- 
satisfaction, lead  up  to  a  criticism  of  the  parents, 
and  the  gathering  conviction  that  other  parents  are 
preferable  in  certain  ways,  is  utilised  for  this  atti- 
tude of  the  child  toward  the  parents.  From  the  psy- 
chology of  the  neuroses,  we  have  learned  that  very 
intense  emotions  of  sexual  rivalry  are  also  involved 
in  this  connection.  The  causative  factor  evidently  is 
the  feeling  of  being  neglected.  Opportunities  arise 
only  too  frequently  when  the  child  is  neglected,  or 
at  least  feels  himself  neglected,  when  he  misses  the 
entire  love  of  the  parents,  or  at  least  regrets  having 
to  share  the  same  with  the  other  children  of  the 
family.  The  feeling  that  one's  own  inclinations  are 
not  entirely  reciprocated  seeks  its  relief  in  the  idea 


158  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

— often  consciously  remembered  from  very  early 
years — of  being  a  stepchild,  or  an  adopted  child. 
Many  persons  who  have  not  become  neurotics,  very 
frequently  remember  occasions  of  this  kind,  when 
the  hostile  behaviour  of  parents  was  interpreted  and 
reciprocated  by  them  in  this  fashion,  usually  under 
the  influence  of  story  books.  The  influence  of  sex 
is  already  evident,  in  so  far  as  the  boy  shows  a  far 
greater  tendency  to  harbour  hostile  feeling  against 
his  father  than  his  mother,  with  a  much  stronger 
inclination  to  emancipate  himself  from  the  father 
than  from  the  mother.  The  imaginative  faculty  of 
girls  is  possibly  much  less  active  in  this  respect. 
These  consciously  remembered  psychic  emotions  of 
the  years  of  childhood  supply  the  factor  which  per- 
mits the  interpretation  of  the  myth.  What  is  not 
often  consciously  remembered,  but  can  almost  invari- 
ably be  demonstrated  through  psychoanalysis,  is 
the  next  stage  in  the  development  of  this  incipient 
alienation  from  the  parents,  which  may  be  desig- 
nated by  the  term  Family  Romance  of  Neurotics. 
The  essence  of  neurosis,  and  of  all  higher  mental 
qualifications,  comprises  a  special  activity  of  the 
imagination  which  is  primarily  manifested  in  the 
play  of  the  child,  and  which  from  about  the  period 
preceding  puberty  takes  hold  of  the  theme  of  the 
family  relations.  A  characteristic  example  of  this 
special  imaginative  faculty  is  represented  by  the 
familiar  day  dreams,3  which  are  continued  until  long 

3  Compare    Freud,    "Hysterical    Fancies,   and   Their   Relations   to 
Bisexuality,"  for  references  to  the  literature  on  this  subject.     This 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  159 

after  puberty.  Accurate  observation  of  these  day 
dreams  shows  that  they  serve  for  fulfilment  of 
wishes,  for  the  righting  of  life,  and  that  they  have 
two  essential  objects,  one  erotic,  the  other  of  an 
ambitious  nature  (usually  with  the  erotic  factor 
concealed  therein.)  About  the  time  in  question  the 
child's  imagination  is  engaged  upon  the  task  of  get- 
ting rid  of  the  parents,  who  are  now  despised  and 
are  as  a  rule  to  be  supplanted  by  others  of  a  higher 
social  rank.  The  child  utilises  an  accidental  coin- 
cidence of  actual  happenings  (meetings  with  the  lord 
of  the  manor,  or  the  proprietor  of  the  estate,  in  the 
country;  with  the  reigning  prince,  in  the  city;  in 
the  United  States  with  some  great  statesman,  mil- 
lionaire). Accidental  occurrences  of  this  kind 
arouse  the  child's  envy,  and  this  finds  its  expression 
in  fancy  fabrics  which  replace  the  two  parents  by 
others  of  a  higher  rank.  The  technical  elaboration 
of  these  two  imaginings,  which,  of  course,  by  this 
time  have  become  conscious,  depends  upon  the 
child's  adroitness,  and  also  upon  the  material  at  his 
disposal.  It  likewise  enters  into  consideration,  if 
these  fancies  are  elaborated  with  more  or  less  claim 
to  plausibility.  This  stage  is  reached  at  a  time  when 
the  child  is  still  lacking  all  knowledge  of  the  sexual 
conditions  of  descent.  With  the  added  knowledge 
of  the  manifold  sexual  relations  of  father  and 
mother;  with  the  child's  realisation  of  the  fact  that 

contribution  is  contained  in  the  second  series  of  the  Collection  of 
Short  Articles  on  the  Neurosis  Doctrine,  Vienna  and  Leipsig,  1909, 
tr.  in  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.,  No.  4. 


160 

the  father  is  always  uncertain,  whereas  the  mother 
is  very  certain — the  family  romance  undergoes  a 
peculiar  restriction;  it  is  satisfied  with  ennobling 
the  father,  while  the  descent  from  the  mother  is  no 
longer  questioned,  but  accepted  as  an  unalterable 
fact.  The  second  (or  sexual)  stage  of  the  family 
romance  is  moreover  supported  by  another  motive, 
which  did  not  exist  in  the  first  or  asexual  stage. 
Knowledge  of  sexual  matters  gives  rise  to  the  tend- 
ency of  picturing  erotic  situations  and  relations, 
impelled  by  the  pleasurable  emotion  of  placing  the 
mother,  or  the  subject  of  the  greatest  sexual  curios- 
ity, in  the  situation  of  secret  unfaithfulness  and 
clandestine  love  affairs.  In  this  way  the  primary  or 
asexual  fantasies  are  raised  to  the  standard  of  the 
improved  later  understanding. 

' '  The  motive  of  revenge  and  retaliation  which  was 
originally  in  the  front,  is  again  evident.  These  neu- 
rotic children  are  mostly  those  who  were  punished 
by  the  parents,  to  break  them  of  bad  sexual  habits, 
and  they  take  their  revenge  upon  their  parents  by 
their  imaginings.  The  younger  children  of  a  family 
are  particularly  inclined  to  deprive  their  predeces- 
sors of  their  advantage  by  fables  of  this  kind  (ex- 
actly as  in  the  intrigues  of  history).  Frequently 
they  do  not  hesitate  in  crediting  the  mother  with  as 
many  love  affairs  as  there  are  rivals.  An  interest- 
ing variation  of  this  family  romance  restores  the 
legitimacy  of  the  plotting  hero  himself,  while  the 
other  children  are  disposed  of  in  this  way  as  illegiti- 
mate. The  family  romance  may  be  governed  be- 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  161 

sides  by  a  special  interest,  all  sorts  of  inclinations 
being  met  by  its  adaptability  and  variegated  char- 
acter. The  little  romancer  gets  rid  in  this  fashion, 
for  example,  of  the  kinship  of  a  sister,  who  may 
have  attracted  him  sexually. 

' '  Those  who  turn  aside  with  horror  from  this  cor- 
ruption of  the  child  mind,  or  perhaps  actually  con- 
test the  possibility  of  such  matters,  should  note  that 
all  these  apparently  hostile  imaginings  have  not  such 
a  very  bad  significance  after  all,  and  that  the  original 
affection  of  the  child  for  his  parents  is  still  pre- 
served under  their  thin  disguise.  The  faithlessness 
and  ingratitude  on  the  part  of  the  child  are  only 
apparent,  for  on  investigating  in  detail  the  most 
common  of  these  romantic  fancies,  namely  the  sub- 
stitution of  both  parents,  or  of  the  father  alone,  by 
more  exalted  personages — the  discovery  will  be  made 
that  these  new  and  high-born  parents  are  invested 
throughout  with  the  qualities  which  are  derived 
from  real  memories  of  the  true  lowly  parents,  so 
that  the  child  does  not  actually  remove  his  father 
but  exalts  him.  The  entire  endeavour  to  replace 
the  real  father  loy  a  more  distinguished  one  is  merely 
the  expression  of  the  child's  longing  for  the  vanished 
happy  time,  when  his  father  still  appeared  to  be  the 
strongest  and  greatest  man,  and  the  mother  seemed 
the  dearest  and  most  beautiful  woman. 

1 '  The  child  turns  away  from  the  father,  as  he  now 
knows  him,  to  the  father  in  whom  he  believed  in  his 
earlier  years,  his  imagination  being  in  truth  only 
the  expression  of  regret  for  this  happy  time  having 


162  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

passed  away.  Thus  the  over-valuation  of  the  ear- 
liest years  of  childhood  again  claims  its  own  in  these 
fancies.4  An  interesting  contribution  to  this  sub- 
ject is  furnished  by  the  study  of  dreams.  Dream- 
interpretation  teaches  that  even  in  later  years,  in 
the  dreams  of  the  emperor  or  the  empress,  these 
princely  persons  stand  for  the  father  and  mother. 
Thus  the  infantile  over-valuation  of  the  parents  is 
still  preserved  in  the  dream  of  the  normal  adult. ' ' 

The  symbols  and  mechanisms  used  are  then  seen 
to  be  symbols  and  mechanisms  utilised  to  go  onward 
and  upward  in  the  process  of  development  in  a  direc- 
tion that  takes  the  individual  further  and  further 
away  from  the  protection  of  the  family  group  and 
more  and  more  towards  the  goal  of  individual  self- 
sufficiency.  The  process  is  but  an  exemplification 
of  the  unfolding  of  the  creative  energy  which  ever 
drives  on  in  the  path  of  development  to  the  com- 
pletest  self-realisation  and  fulfilment. 

In  order  to  understand  the  symbols  and  mechan- 
isms, however,  we  must  not  make  the  mistake  of 
interpreting  them  in  the  terms  of  the  adult  con- 
sciousness but  must  constantly  bear  in  mind  their 
origin  in  the  infantile  unconscious.  Thus  in  dreams 
of  the  death  of  the  parent  of  the  same  sex  it  is 
wrong  to  assume  at  once  that  the  child,  the  dreamer, 
desires  the  actual  death  of  the  parent  as  we  under- 

*  For  the  idealising  of  the  parents  by  the  children,  compare 
Maeder's  comments  (Jdhr.  f.  Psychoanalyse,  p.  152,  and  Central- 
Matt  f.  Psychoanalyse,  I,  p.  51),  on  Varendonk's  essay,  Les  ideals 
d'  enfant,  Tome  VII,  1908. 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  163 

stand  death.  Death  to  the  child  has  always  been  a 
mere  going  away.  The  real  meaning  of  death  is  not 
understood  until  relatively  late  in  development. 
Thus  one  child,  cited  by  Freud,5  a  boy  of  ten,  fol- 
lowing the  death  of  his  father  said:  "I  understand 
that  father  is  dead,  but  I  cannot  see  why  he  does 
not  come  home  to  supper."  This  is  a  typical  in- 
stance and  shows  that  the  dream  of  the  death  of  a 
parent  is  to  be  understood  as  meaning,  not  actual 
death,  but  the  elimination  of  that  influence  of  the 
parent  which  is  biologically  hampering  to  personal 
development. 

A  very  little  experience  in  the  analysis  of  the  inner 
thinking  of  persons  will  disclose  manifold  ways  in 
which  the  attachment  to  the  parent  comes  to  expres- 
sion. Men  and  women  constantly  pick  out  for  their 
partners  in  life  those  who  represent  symbolically 
their  mother  or  their  father.  In  other  words  the 
mate  is  a  mother  or  father  image  which  means,  of 
course,  that  they  need  not  bear  any  close  resemblance 
to  the  eyes  of  an  outsider  but  they  do  resemble  the 
mother  or  father  image  that  was  built  during  the 
infancy  of  the  child  when  the  father  was  the  greatest 
and  most  powerful  of  naen  and  the  mother  was  the 
most  lovable  and  beautiful  woman. 

It  is  very  frequent  among  neurotics  to  find  that 
an  early  unfortunate  love  affair  was  with  such  a 
person.  It  is  of  great  interest  to  read  in  the  report 
of  the  Chicago  Vice  Commission6  that  of  103  girls 

s  "The  Interpretation  of  Dreams." 
«"The  Social  Evil  in  Chicago,"  1911. 


164  CHAKACTER  FORMATION 

(prostitutes)  examined  the  history  was  that  the 
first  sexual  irregularity  of  51  was  with  their  own 
father.  One  must  necessarily  wonder  how  much  of 
this  was  really  true  and  how  much  was  the  result  of 
a  wish-fulfilling  phantasy  of  individuals  essentially 
infantile  in  development.  Certainly  false  accusa- 
tions, and  we  know  only  too  well,  false  convictions, 
especially  for  sexual  crimes,  have  grown  only  too 
frequently,  out  of  the  phantasies  of  neurotic  girls. 
The  extent  to  which  such  extravagances  can  go  is 
well  shown  from  the  records  of  the  trials  of  witches, 
and  the  like  are  matters  of  history. 

One  of  the  most  common  ways  in  which  the  love 
for  the  parent  of  the  opposite  sex  is  exhibited  in 
later  life  is  by  identification  with  the  parent  of  the 
same  sex.  In  phantasy  the  girl  secures  the  love  of 
the  father  by  identifying  herself  with  her  mother 
and  the  boy  secures  the  love  of  the  mother  by  identi- 
fying himself  with  the  father.  It  is  remarkable, 
when  one  inquires  into  it,  how  frequently  we  see  an 
individual  repeating  the  history  of  the  parent  of  the 
same  sex,  going  through  a  similar  course  of  develop- 
ment, developing  the  same  illnesses,  exhibiting  the 
same  weaknesses.  This  is  all  generally  explained 
by  heredity  but  heredity  is  still  only  a  word,  an 
hypothesis,  and  while  perhaps  it  has  much  truth  to 
its  credit,  still  this  other  way  of  looking  at  the  facts 
gives  the  values  that  always  come  from  a  new  point 
of  view  and  serves  to  explain  many  of  the  more 
subtle  nuances  in  a  much  more  satisfactory  way. 

A  recent  patient  of  mine,  for  example,  had  had 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  165 

her  first  and  unfortunate  sex  experience  with  a  man 
who  was  clearly  the  father  image.  In  addition  to 
this  she  became  depressed  and  apprehensive  about 
the  same  period  in  life  as  did  her  mother,  following 
the  death  of  her  husband,  which  again  followed  the 
lead  of  the  mother  whose  depression  came  after  the 
death  of  her  husband.  The  mother  died  in  an  asy- 
lum and  the  patient  had  for  years  been  afraid  that 
she  would  lose  her  mind  and  suffer  a  like  fate.  The 
love  for  the  father  image  and  the  identification  with 
the  mother  are  here  both  clearly  in  evidence.  It  is 
in  such  mechanisms  as  these  that  we  see  the  explana- 
tion of  the  fact  that  neurotics  tend  to  marry  near 
relatives,  a  fact  analysed  by  Abraham.7 

The  ambivalent  type  of  reaction  is  quite  as  fre- 
quently in  evidence.  Here  it  is  not  so  much  a  ques- 
tion of  the  love  of  the  parent  of  the  opposite  sex 
as  it  is  hate  of  the  parent  of  the  same  sex.  More 
frequently,  however,  the  hate  is  displayed  towards 
the  father  rather  than  the  mother,  because  it  is  he, 
who,  during  the  infancy  of  the  individual,  has  rep- 
resented, in  the  family  situation,  the  final  source  of 
all  authority. 

This  ambivalent  hate  is  shown  in  extreme  form 
in  the  paranoiac  who  resists  all  authority  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  is  quite  unable  to  live  in  the  world 
as  it  is  and  finds  it  necessary  to  build  up  an  arti- 

7  Abraham,  Karl:  Die  Stelhmg  der  Verwandtenehe  in  der  Psy- 
chologic der  Neurosen.  Jahrb.  f.  Psychoanalytische  u.  Psychopath. 
Forschungen.  Abstract  in  the  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  III. 
No.  I,  January,  1916. 


166  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ficial  delusional  world  in  which  he  overcomes  the 
authority  of  the  father  in  the  completest  possible 
way  by  supplanting  him,  taking  his  place,  and  there- 
by himself  becoming  the  source  of  all  authority. 
Thus  develop,  side  by  side,  the  characteristic  traits 
of  the  paranoiac — the  delusions  of  persecution  and 
the  delusions  of  grandeur.  It  is  such  mechanisms 
as  are  at  the  bottom  of  extreme  types  of  anarchists 
and  finally  the  regicides.  These  people  from  being 
simply  resistant  to  authority  are  actively  engaged 
in  trying  to  tear  it  down,  to  destroy  it,  even  to  the 
extent  of  assassinating  those  in  whom  authority  is 
temporarily  vested. 

A  still  different  method  of  dealing  with  the  hate 
and  desire  for  death  of  the  rival  (father  for  in- 
stance), is  to  completely  disguise  these  feelings  by 
expressions  of  great  solicitude  for  his  health  and 
safety.  Thus  the  real  feelings  and  wishes  are 
covered  over  by  their  opposites — tenderness  and 
solicitude. 

The  mother-in-law. — The  age-old  conflict  between 
son-in-law  and  mother-in-law8  is  founded  on  this 
same  motive.  The  path  to  the  love  object  proceeds 
from  the  love  of  the  parent,  in  this  case  the  mother, 
and  when  finally  brought  to  an  apparently  success- 
ful issue,  with  the  mother  image  sufficiently  re- 
pressed, is  suddenly  again  stirred  to  activity  by  the 
mother-in-law,  who,  because  of  her  resemblance  to 
the  wife  plus  her  greater  age,  calls  up  again  the 

s  Freud:  "Totem  und  Tabu."  An  abstract  of  Freud's  views  in 
Brill:  "Psychanalysis,"  W.  B.  Saunders  Company,  1912. 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  167 

mother  image  in  a  concrete  form  which  had  been  un- 
recognised in  the  wife. 

Relations  of  brothers  and  sisters,— The  jealousy  of  chil- 
dren of  the  same  family  among  themselves  is  pro- 
verbial as  is  also  the  jealousy  of  an  only  child  when 
a  new  baby  arrives  in  the  household.  This  jealousy 
is  expressed  by  very  young  children  in  a  perfectly 
frank  manner.  For  example  little  Hans9  said 
simply,  "I  don't  want  a  little  sister." 

The  basis  of  this  jealousy  is,  of  course,  that  the 
newcomer  takes  away  some  of  the  love  of  the  mother 
that  before  had  been  possessed  without  a  rival. 

The  extent  to  which  children  feel  and  express 
their  jealousy  and  hate  towards  rivals  is  well  shown 
in  the  case  cited  by  Hall 10  of  the  perfectly  normal 
little  girl  who  was  found  dancing  on  the  grave  of 
her  nearest  friend  and  singing  exultantly,  "I  am  so 
glad  she  is  dead  and  I  am  alive. ' '  We  know  too  of 
the  very  frequent  crimes  of  violence  and  murders 
committed  by  children.  They  can  only  be  under- 
stood when  we  take  into  account  these  mechanisms 
and  realise  the  unconscious  and  infantile  way  of 
thinking  and  do  not  try  to  judge  them  according  to 
adult  standards.  The  child  is  phylogenetically  in 
the  savage  stage  of  development  and  his  standards 
belong  to  that  period  of  human  evolution. 

»  Freud:  Analyse  der  Phobic  eines  funfjahrigen  Knaben.  Jdhrb. 
f.  psychoan,  u.  psychopath.  Forschungen,  Vol.  I.  Abstract  in  the 
Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  I,  Jan.,  1916. 

10  Hall,  G.  Stanley:  "Adolescence,"  Vol.  I.  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
1904. 


168  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  loves  and  hates,  jealousies  and  conflicts  be- 
tween brothers  and  sisters  are  but  expressions  of 
this  attachment  to  the  parents  once  removed.  The 
sister  is  the  incarnation  of  the  mother  image,  the 
brother  the  incarnation  of  the  father  image — symbols 
used  by  the  libido  in  its  unremitting  efforts  to  loose 
itself  for  flights  of  ever  increasing  freedom. 

The  Grandparents.11 — Here  we  have  another, 
though  somewhat  more  complicated  variant  of  the 
parent  image.  By  transferring  the  incestuous  long- 
ings to  the  grandparents  the  real  nature  of  the 
attachment  is  somewhat  disguised  and  also  some- 
what weakened. 

The  grandfather  is  the  strong  rival  of  the  father, 
the  great  man  to  whom  the  father  has  to  bow  sub- 
mission, a  meaning  preserved  in  the  word  itself, 
grandfather,  Grossvater,  grandpere.  The  conflict 
with  the  father  is  therefore  transferred  to  the  grand- 
father, and  later  the  child,  as  already  shown,  over- 
comes his  antagonist  by  identifying  himself  with  him. 
He  thus  becomes  the  grandfather,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  father  of  his  father,  and  then  still  further  to 
carry  this  unconscious  feeling-logic  to  its  ultimate 
ends,  his  own  father.  This  is  the  so-called ' '  reversed 
parentage"  phantasy. 

If  the  grandfather  is  weak  and  old  then  his  death 
is  often  the  first  death  experience  of  the  child.  In 

11  Jones,  Ernest :  "Die  Bedeutung  des  Grossvaters  f iir  des  Schick- 
sal  des  Einzelnen."  Abraham,  Karl:  "Einige  Bemerkungen  liber 
die  Rolle  der  Grosseltern  in  der  Psychologie  der  Neurosen." 
Ferenczi.  S. :  "Zum  Thema  'Grossvaterkomplex.' "  Internat.  Zeitsch. 
f.  Arztliche  Psychoan.  Vol.  I,  No.  3,  July,  1914. 


THE  FAMILY  KOMANCE  169 

this  case  it  leaves  the  grandmother  free  for  the  father 
and  the  child  can  then  possess,  undisputed,  the  love 
of  the  mother.  Similar  mechanisms  apply  to  the 
girl  child. 

Similar  mechanisms  explain  the  relation  to  various 
parent  surrogates — nurses,  servants,  aunts  and 
uncles,  etc. 

Thus  we  see  how  the  libido  is  ever  striving  to 
creative  ends.  Love,  first  directed  towards  the 
parents,  becomes  the  paradigm  for  all  future  loves. 
The  parent  image  is  the  form  in  which  love  is  first 
cast  and  as  the  child  develops  the  ever  increasing 
necessity  for  the  completest  self-expression,  for  ful- 
filment, is  expressed  by  ringing  the  changes  upon 
the  parent  image  as  it  is  successively  transferred  to 
one  object  after  another  in  the  line  of  development. 
This  process  is,  however,  not  a  simple  one.  The 
very  casting  of  the  love  in  any  form  makes  for  that 
fixity  which  is  an  obstacle  to  the  change  that  develop- 
ment demands,  so  conflict  again  becomes  the  agent 
wherein  the  play  of  forces  is  ever  making  for  eman- 
cipation and  self-mastery. 

Such  mechanisms  show  us  how  a  patient  in  his 
delirium  may  become  his  own  father  and  then  his 
own  child.  (See  Chapter  V.)  Such  expressions  of 
delirium  have  heretofore  been  meaningless  and  are 
now  unless  we  are  prepared  to  explain  them  upon 
the  basis  of  such  mechanisms  as  are  here  outlined, 
or  similar  ones. 

We  see  in  these  mechanisms  too,  how  it  is  that 
parents  do  literally  live  again  in  their  children. 


170  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  father  sees  again  in  his  daughter  his  wife,  and 
back  of  the  wife  his  mother.  The  mother,  in  like 
manner,  sees  in  her  son  a  reincarnation  of  her  hus- 
band and  through  him  again  her  father. 

And  finally,  it  should  not  be  lost  sight  of,  that  the 
fact  that  the  parent  or  parents  died  when  the  child 
was  very  young,  or  before  it  was  born  does  not  by 
any  means  preclude  the  formation  of  a  parent  image. 
As  has  already  been  emphasised  the  parent  image 
is  a  creation  largely  of  phantasy  and  need  have 
little  attachment  to  a  real  parent.  In  fact,  as  has 
been  seen,  the  image  is  frequently  attached  to  a 
surrogate  for  the  parent  with  whom  the  child  has 
been  brought  up.  Now,  the  fact  that  the  father  is 
dead  only  permits  phantasy  a  fuller  play.  The 
parent  image  now  becomes  a  true  ideal  which  can  be 
clothed  in  the  attribute  of  any  wish  whatever  with- 
out being  hampered  by  the  interference  of  trouble- 
some facts.  This  is  why  great  men,  as  they  gradu- 
ally recede  in  the  past  of  history,  progressively 
acquire  more  and  more  the  attributes  of  godhood. 
I  wonder  if  Napoleon  should  rise  from  his  grave  to- 
day, if  he  would  not  be  the  most  surprised  of  men 
to  read  some  of  the  things  that  have  been  written 
about  him? 

Man  always  exalts  the  past  and  especially  his  own 
past. 

SOME   COBKELATIONS 

One  of  the  confirmations  which  the  Freudian 
psychologists  have  insisted  upon  for  their  hypotheses 
is  that  the  same  mechanisms  that  are  at  the  bottom 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  171 

of  the  infantile  way  of  thinking,  which  dominate  the 
psychoses,  and  also  normal  life,  and  which  appear 
in  dreams,  are  also  to  be  found  over  again  in  folk- 
lore, and  the  myths  and  legends  which  every  people 
have.  Just  as  dreams  are  phantasies  which  have 
their  roots  in  the  infancy  of  the  individual  so  myths 
are  phantasies  which  have  their  roots  in  the  child- 
hood of  the  race. 

The  family  romance  is  found  carried  out  in  all  its 
details  in  the  myths  surrounding  the  origin  of  na- 
tional heroes  like  Eomulus,  Hercules,  Moses,  Sieg- 
fried, Lohengrin.  These  heroes  serve  to  give  a 
concrete,  projected  expression  of  a  whole  people 
who  reproduce  in  the  hero  their  own  unconscious. 
The  hero,  as  Bank 12  says  '  *  should  always  be  inter- 
preted merely  as  a  collective  ego."  The  hero  exalts 
his  father  and  so  exalts  himself,  and  thus  overcomes 
the  father  by  replacing  him.  This  is  the  mechanism 
at  the  basis  of  delusions  of  grandeur  and  of  per- 
secution and  the  symbols  and  mechanisms  are  the 
same  again  as  those  used  in  the  family  romance  that 
does  not  end  in  failure — disease.  So  does  the  indi- 
vidual satisfy  his  demands  for  power  and  so  does 
the  race  exalt  itself  by  being  descended  from  a  hero. 
"Myths  are,  therefore,  created  by  adults,  by  means 
of  retrograde  childhood  phantasies,  the  hero  being 
credited  with  the  myth-maker's  personal  infantile 
history. ' ' 13  As  Abraham  14  well  puts  it : ' '  The  race, 

12  "The  Myth  of  the  Birth  of  the  Hero,"  loc.  cit. 
is  Rank,  loc.  cit. 

i*  Abraham,  Karl:  Dreams  and  Myths,  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis. 
Monograph  Se.,  No.  15. 


172  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

in  prehistoric  times,  makes  its  wishes  into  structures 
of  phantasy,  which  as  myths  reach  over  into  the  his- 
torical ages.  In  the  same  way  the  individual  in  his 
'prehistoric  period'  makes  structures  of  phantasy 
out  of  his  wishes  which  persist  as  dreams  in  the  'his- 
torical period. '  So  is  the  myth  a  retained  fragment 
from  the  infantile  psychic  life  of  the  race  and  the 
dream  is  the  myth  of  the  individual. ' ' 15 

The  incest  motive  meets  us  at  every  turn  in  my- 
thology and  folk-lore  from  the  revolt  of  the  Titans 
and  the  overcoming  by  Cronus  of  his  father  Uranus 
whom  he  supplanted  on  the  throne,  to  the  modern 
drama.  Uranus  cursed  his  son  and  prophesied  that 
a  day  would  come  when  he  too  would  be  supplanted 
by  his  children  and  so  would  suffer  a  just  punish- 
ment. In  the  original  version  the  sexual  nature  of 
the  rivalry  between  father  and  son  is  made  plain  by 
the  fact  that  Cronus  emasculates  his  father  Uranus. 
Phantasies  of  overcoming  the  father  by  castration 
are  very  common  as  for  example  the  case  cited  by 
Jelliffe,16  of  the  patient  who  had  sausages,  waffles 
and  maple  syrup  every  morning  for  breakfast. 

In  fairy  tales  the  wish  motive  is  very  potent. 
Wonderful  things  are  always  coming  to  pass  with- 
out any  effort  or  if  any  effort  is  required  the  hero  is 
endowed  with  some  magical  power  that  assures  his 

IB  For  a  discussion  of  the  way  these  phantasies  became  attached 
to  natural  objects  and  developed  the  nature  myths  see  Otto  Rank 
and  Hanns  Sachs:  The  Significance  of  Psychoanalysis  for  the  Mental 
Sciences.  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  23. 

ie  Technique  of  Psychoanalysis,  The  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol, 
II,  No.  4,  October,  1915. 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  173 

success.  Then,  too,  the  wish  of  the  people  for  power 
is  easily  seen  in  the  frequency  with  which  peasants, 
even  simple-minded  persons,  attain  to  high  and 
mighty  positions  and  great  wealth.  In  the  fairy-tale 
all  the  impediments  are  swept  aside  whether  they  be 
social  position,  mental  inefficiency,  or  physical  de- 
formity.17 In  addition  to  these  motives  we  see  the 
sexual  motive  appearing  with  great  frequency,  par- 
ticularly in  the  variants  of  the  family  romance. 
Tales  setting  forth  the  sex  motive  in  concrete  form 
are  such  tales  as  "Oda  and  the  Serpent"  (Bech- 
stein's  Collection)  and  "The  Frog  King"  (Grimm 
No.  1). 

The  family  romance  is  expressed  in  many  tales  and 
in  many  ways.  Examples  are  "The  Father  Perse- 
cutes His  Own  Daughter"  (Bittershaus  Collection), 
in  which  it  is  perfectly  plainly  stated  that  the  prince, 
who  had  previously  killed  his  parent  and  his  sister 
to  secure  the  kingdom,  later  desires  to  possess  his 
own  daughter,  and  the  story  goes  on  to  tell  her  ad- 
ventures in  escaping  him.  The  same  motive  recurs 
in  "The  Beautiful  Sesselja"  (Eittershaus  collec- 
tion). In  "The  Twelve  Brothers"  (Grimm  No.  27) 
the  father  has  prepared  twelve  caskets  for  his  twelve 
sons  whom  he  would  murder  if  the  thirteenth  child 
was  a  girl. 

All  the  various  changes  are  rung  on  the  sexual 
rivalry  of  the  different  members  of  the  family  and 
the  simple,  naive  way  in  which  murder  is  used  to  get 

17  See  Ricklin,  Franz:  Wish-fulfilment  and  Symbolism  in  Fairy 
Tales,  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monograph  Se.,  No.  21. 


174  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

rid  of  a  hated  rival  stamps  the  kind  of  thinking, 
from  which  such  tales  originate,  as  infantile. 

In  literature  and  drama  the  main  motive  meets  us 
again  and  again.18  Aside  from  CEdipus  Tyrannus 
already  cited,  perhaps  the  most  notable  piece  of 
literature  dealing  with  the  CEdipus  complex  is  the 
tragedy  of  Hamlet.19  Of  more  recent  examples 
Ibsen  furnishes  a  number  of  instances.20 

For  instance,  in  John  Gabriel  Borkman — the  twin 
sisters  Mrs.  Borkman  and  Ella  Eentheim  contest  for 
the  love  of  Erhart,  Mrs.  Borkman 's  son. 

MBS.  BORKMAN 

(Threateningly.)  You  want  to  come  between  us?  Between 
mother  and  son  ?  You  ? 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 
I  want  to  free  him  from  your  power — your  will — your  despotism. 

MRS.  BORKMAN 

(Triumphantly.)  You  are  too  late !  You  had  him  in  your  nets 
all  those  years — until  he  was  fifteen.  But  now  I  have  won  him 
Wgain,  you  see ! 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 

Then  I  will  win  him  back  from  you !  (Hoarsely,  half  whisper- 
ing.) We  two  have  fought  a  life-and-death  battle  before,  Gunhild 
— for  a  man's  soul ! 


is  Rank,  Otto :  "Das  Inzest — Motiv  in  Dichtung  und  Sage."  Leip- 
zig u.  Wien  Franz  Deuticke,  1912. 

i»  Jones,  Ernest:  The  CEdipus  Complex  as  an  Explanation  of 
Hamlet's  Mystery:  A  Study  in  Motive.  Am.  Jour.  Psychol.  Jan., 
1910. 

20  Cited  by  Rank:  "Das  Inzest-Motiv." 


THE  FAMILY  ROMANCE  175 

MBS.  BORKMAN 

(After  reflecting  a  moment,  firmly.)  Erhart  himself  shall 
choose  between  us. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 

(Looking  doubtfully  and  hesitatingly  at  her.)  He  choose? 
Dare  you  risk  that,  Gunhild? 

MBS.  BORKMAN 

(With  a  hard  laugh.)  Dare  I?  Let  my  boy  choose  between  his 
mother  and  you  ?  Yes,  indeed,  I  dare ! 

Later  Ella  finds  that  Borkman  discarded  her  for 
selfish  motives,  for  his  own  personal  business  inter- 
ests, and  says  to  him : 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 

.  .  .  From  the  day  when  your  image  began  to  dwindle  in  my 
mind,  I  have  lived  my  life  as  though  under  an  eclipse.  During  all 
these  years  it  has  grown  harder  and  harder  for  me — and  at  last 
utterly  impossible — to  love  any  living  creature.  Human  beings, 
animals,  plants :  I  shrink  from  all — from  all  but  one — 

BORKMAN 
What  one  t 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 
Erhart,  of  course. 

BORKMAN 
Erhart? 

ELLA  RENTHEIM 
Erhart — your  son  Borkman. 

Such  illustrations  of  the  family  romance  in  its 
multitudinous  forms  of  expression  are  frequent  in 
literature  and  serve  only  to  add  emphasis  to  what  has 


176  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

already  been  said  of  the  meanings  of  the  symbols 
and  mechanisms  which  have  as  their  goal  the  forcing 
of  the  individual  to  the  highest  expressions  of  his 
creative  energy. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  WILL  TO  POWER 

"My  idea  is  that  every  specific  body  strives  to  become  master  of 
all  space,  and  to  extend  its  power  (its  will  to  power),  and  to  thrust 
back  everything  that  resists  it.  But  inasmuch  as  it  is  continually 
meeting  the  same  endeavours  on  the  part  of  other  bodies,  it  con- 
cludes by  coming  to  terms  with  those  (by  'combining'  with  those) 
which  are  sufficiently  related  to  it — and  thus  they  conspire  together 
for  power.  And  the  process  continues." — NIETZSCHE  :  "The  Will 
to  Power." 

"The  will  to  power  is  the  primitive  motive  force  out  of  which  all 
other  motives  have  been  derived." — NIETZSCHE  :  Ibid. 

THE   ALL-POWERFULNESS  OF   THOUGHT 

Ferenczi  has  given  us  a  most  suggestive  and  valu- 
able description 1  of  the  conflict  between  the  pleasure- 
pain  and  reality  motives  during  the  early  period  of 
the  child's  life. 

In  the  mother 's  body  the  child  is  in  a  state  of  un- 
conditioned omnipotence.  Everything  is  done  for  it 
— it  does  not  have  to  take  food  or  even  to  breathe. 
The  mental  state  of  desire  can  hardly  be  said  to 
exist  at  all  for  no  need  is  even  permitted  to  come  into 
existence  and  therefore  does  not  have  to  be  satisfied. 

l  Ferenczi,  S. :  Entwicklungsstufen  des  Wirklichkeitssinnes  Int. 
Zeitscli.  f.  Aerztliche  Psychoan.  Vol.  I,  No.  2.  Abstracted  in  the 
Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  I,  No.  2  (Feb.,  1914). 

177 


178  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  child  not  only  does  not  have  to  eat  or  breathe,  it 
is  also  unnecessary  to  move,  it  lies  doubled  up,  sus- 
pended in  a  comfortably  warm  fluid  to  which  light 
does  not  even  penetrate 2  and  therefore  have  to  be 
reacted  to.  From  this  state  of  comfortable  and  un- 
conditioned omnipotence  the  child  is  thrust,  through 
no  volition  or  desire  of  its  own,  into  a  hard,  cold, 
uncompromising  world  of  reality.  Its  first  cry  on 
being  born  is  its  mightiest  protest,  an  expression  of 
its  desire  to  be  back  in  the  uterus,  or  according  to 
Adler  is  an  expression  of  its  overwhelming  sense  of 
inferiority  on  thus  suddenly  being  confronted  by 
reality  without  ever  before  having  had  to  deal  with 
its  problems. 

From  the  moment  of  birth,  His  Majesty  the  Baby 
rules  the  household,  that  is,  his  world,  with  an  ever 
increasing  loss  of  omnipotence  as  the  demands  of 
reality  gradually  assert  themselves  with  gradual 
though  increasing  success. 

Ferenczi  describes  three  stages  in  this  conflict  be- 
tween the  desire  to  regain  the  lost  omnipotence  and 
the  world  of  reality.  At  first  the  baby  gets  what  it 
wants  by  crying  for  it — this  is  the  period  of  magic- 
hallucinatory  omnipotence.  The  first  sleep  of  the 
baby  is  essentially  a  more  or  less  successful  repro- 
duction of  its  state  before  birth,  removed  almost 
absolutely  from  the  disturbing  influences  of  intrud- 
ing stimuli  from  the  outside  world.  And  just  as  we 

2  This  statement  is  not  quite  accurate.  The  mother's  abdominal 
walls  are,  often  at  least  (in  thin  women),  translucent  and  probably 
the  foetus  may  react  to  light  as  it  may  also,  probably,  to  sound. 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  179 

have  seen  that  the  parent  image  is  the  symbol  which 
serves  to  carry  the  libido  on  its  love  path,  serves  to 
represent  the  forms  into  which  all  future  loves  shall 
fit,  so  this  situation,  freedom  from  stimuli,  serves 
as  the  paradigm,  the  prototype,  for  the  regressive 
libido  seeking  omnipotence  when  cast  back  upon  it- 
self by  the  world  of  reality  which  it  fails  to  conquer. 
This  may  be  symbolised  by  a  dark  quiet  room  and  a 
warm  soft  bed,  by  the  lap  of  mother  Church,  the  arms 
of  Morpheus  (normal  or  drug  induced  sleep)  or  even 
finally  by  death  with  its  sombre  accompaniments,  the 
casket  representing  the  matrix — the  ambivalent  op- 
posite of  life  and  the  progressive  overcoming  of 
reality. 

Later  as  the  child  becomes  more  active  and  expert 
in  the  use  of  its  limbs,  its  instinctive  efforts  to  know 
the  real  world  are  expressed  by  reaching  for  and  at- 
tempting to  grasp  everything  in  its  environment.  It 
may,  perchance,  drop  the  toy  which  has  been  placed 
in  its  hands  but  nevertheless  reaches  for  it  although 
it  may  be  far  removed  from  its  possibility  to  grasp. 
The  nurse,  however,  stands  ready  to  span  the  dis- 
tance and  place  the  toy  again  in  its  hands — to  satisfy 
its  wish.  This  is  the  period  of  omnipotence  with  the 
help  of  magic  gestures. 

This  period  holds  the  stage  for  a  while  but  it  too 
becomes  progressively  insufficient  to  meet  the  de- 
mands of  reality  for  it  happens  only  too  often  that 
what  the  child  reaches  for  it  does  not  find  instantly 
in  its  hand.  Perhaps  the  nurse  does  not  happen  to 
be  by  or  is  indifferent  or  perhaps  the  child  has 


180  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

reached  for  the  moon  which  even  a  solicitous  nurse 
cannot  supply. 

With  the  passing  of  the  period  of  magic  gestures 
a  new  set  of  symbols  comes  to  the  fore — the  language 
symbols  which  are  new  vehicles  for  expressing  wishes 
and  representing  desired  objects  and  so  the  lost 
omnipotence  is  sought  anew  by  magic  words — the 
period  of  magic  thinking  and  magic  words. 

These  various  periods  are  only  different  ways  of 
trying  to  get  what  is  wanted  by  the  phantasy  route 
instead  of  by  efficient  contact  with  reality.  They  are 
ways  of  having  dreams  come  true,  not  by  wresting 
success  from  nature,  but  by  thinking  them  true — the 
method  that  substitutes  for  action  the  all-powerful- 
ness  of  thought  (Allmacht  der  Gedanken). 

The  progressive  failure  of  these  different  devices 
is  contemporaneous  with  and  due  to  the  development 
of  the  ego-consciousness  of  the  child  under  the  stimu- 
lus of  reality.  Gestures,  words,  constantly  fail  by 
themselves  to  bring  desired  results  to  pass  and  so 
reality  gains  more  and  more  recognition. 

This  distinction  between  "self"  and  "not  self" 
has  to  be  slowly  and  painstakingly  worked  out  as  the 
result  of  innumerable  experiments.  If  we  were  to 
watch  a  three  months  old  baby  playing  on  the  floor 
we  would  notice  that  it  picked  up  the  objects  within 
reach  and  pretty  generally  thrust  them  immediately 
into  its  mouth.  This  is  done  at  first  indifferently 
with  such  objects  as  a  rubber  ball  on  the  one  hand 
or  with  the  baby's  foot  on  the  other.  Depending 
upon  whether  the  object  is  or  is  not  a  part  of  the 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  181 

baby's  body  we  have  here  two  very  different  types  of 
experience.  The  baby  gets  two  very  different  results 
depending  upon  whether  it  is  the  rubber  ball  or  the 
foot  that  it  sticks  in  its  mouth.  When  he  sticks  the 
ball  in  his  mouth  he  gets  a  certain  sensation  in  his 
mouth.  When  he  sticks  his  foot  in  his  mouth  he  also 
gets  a  certain  sensation  in  his  mouth,  but  he  gets 
something  more — he  gets  an  added  sensation  in  his 
foot.  Without  elaborating  this  illustration  further 
it  will  be  seen  that  at  first  we  are  dealing  in  the  child 
with  a  diffuse  activity  which  does  not  appreciate  any 
distinction  between  the  foot  which  he  sees  lying  on 
the  floor  before  him  and  the  rubber  ball,  and  that  by 
such  experiences  as  this  he  begins  the  process  of  dif- 
ferentiating himself  from  his  environment — of  grad- 
ually building  up  within  his  psyche  a  series  of  mental 
images  that  stand  for  his  own  body  in  distinction 
from  the  rest  of  the  world. 

It  is  this  principle  that  is  at  the  basis  of  magic  and 
animism.  In  Melanesia  3  if  a  man's  friends  get  pos- 
session of  the  arrow  with  which  he  was  wounded 
they  believe  that  by  keeping  it  in  a  damp  place  or 
wrapped  in  cool  leaves  the  inflammation  will  be 
trifling  or  soon  disappear  from  the  wound.  On  the 
contrary  the  enemy  operates  along  opposite  lines. 
He  and  his  friends  drink  hot  juices  and  chew  irri- 
tating leaves  for  the  purpose  of  inflaming  the  wound, 
and  keep  the  bow  near  the  fire  to  make  the  wound 
hot.  If  they  have  been  able  to  get  possession  of 

s  Frazer,  J.  G.,  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Pt.  I.  "The  Magic 
Art  and  the  Evolution  of  Kings."  Vol.  I,  Chap.  III. 


182  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  arrow  that  inflicted  the  wound  they  put  that,  for 
the  same  reason,  into  the  fire. 

As  for  names,  among  savages  there  is  no  real  dis- 
tinction between  the  thing  or  the  person  and  the 
name.4  The  savage  regards  his  name  as  a  part  of 
himself.  "An  Australian  black  is  always  very 
unwilling  to  tell  his  real  name,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  this  reluctance  is  due  to  the  fact  that  through 
his  name  he  may  be  injured  by  sorcerers. ' ' 5  During 
an  epidemic  of  smallpox  in  Mombasa,  British  East 
Africa,  the  natives  refrained  from  mentioning  the 
name  of  the  disease.6  These  are  examples  that  are 
quite  on  a  par  with  the  developmental  stages  of  the 
infant  described  by  Ferenczi.  In  fact  he  correlates 7 
the  periods  of  magic  gestures  and  of  magic  thoughts 
with  the  neuroses  which  employ  various  physical 
disabilities  (conversions)  or  ceremonials  (compulsive 
neurosis)  in  the  service  of  the  repression  of  certain 
censored  complexes.  The  anthropological  data  add 
further  evidence.  For  example:  In  the  island  of 
Timor8  the  people  after  making  long  journeys  fan 
themselves  with  leafy  branches  and  then  throw  the 
branches  away.  Their  fatigue  is  supposed  to  be 
transferred  to  the  branches  and  then  by  throwing 

*  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Part  I.  Taboo 
and  the  Perils  of  the  Soul.  Chap.  VI.  Tabooed  words. 

s  Smyth,  R.  B.:  "Aborigines  of  Victoria,"  I.  469  note  cited  by 
Frazer,  loc.  cit. 

«  Frazer,  loc.  cit. 

7  Ferenczi,  loc.  cit. 

s  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Part  I.  "The 
Magic  Art  and  the  Evolution  of  Kings,"  Vol.  I,  Chap.  III. 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  183 

these  away  they  get  rid  of  their  fatigue.  Other  peo- 
ples, for  example  in  the  Babar  Archipelago  use 
stones  for  the  same  purpose.  This  custom,  with 
many  variations,  is  widely  spread  and  when  used  to 
rid  the  individual  of  an  evil  becomes  a  rite  of  puri- 
fication, which  among  certain  Mohammedans  in 
Africa  is  seen  in  its  opposite  form,  as  the  throwing 
of  marked  stones  at  a  holy  man,  which  are  after- 
ward recovered  and  embraced  and  so  transfer  some 
of  his  goodness  to  the  devotee.  Such  practices  are 
akin  to  the  tics  and  compulsions  of  neurotics  which 
are,  from  this  point  of  view,  ceremonials  of  purifica- 
tion. A  hand- washing  compulsion  may  thus  be  a 
means  of  symbolic  purification  for  a  moral  sin  by 
which  an  effort  is  made  to  separate  the  sin  from  the 
body  and  cast  it  away  quite  as  concretely  as  is  the 
fatigue  with  the  stone  or  the  leafy  branches. 

All  the  things  that  we  wish  for  come  to  pass  in 
that  fairy  land  where  " candles  come  alight,"  a  land 
preserved  in  the  fairy  tales  of  all  peoples.  All  our 
limitations  are  shed  in  this  beautiful  land  and  again 
the  all-powerfulness  of  thought  reasserts  itself  and 
our  wishes  come  true.  And  so  the  praiser  of  past 
times — laudator  temporis  acti — is  seeking  to  avoid 
the  necessity  of  meeting  the  present  with  efficient 
action  by  dwelling  on  the  glories  of  the  past,  he  is 
seeking  to  return  to  that  period  in  which  his  thoughts 
were  all-powerful,  he  is  striving  to  recover  his  lost 
omnipotence. 

In  the  same  way  we  find  this  land  of  pleasant 
dreams  represented  in  dreams  by  a  symbolism  that 


184  CHAEACTEE  FOEMATION 

can  be  seen  to  reproduce  the  condition  in  the  uterus, 
and  the  entering  upon  a  new  and  radical  period  of 
life  being  symbolised  by  birth — re-birth.  In  the 
dream  of  the  patient  who  dreamt  that  he  fell  into  a 
great  body  of  water  and  then  after  having  swum 
about  for  a  time  saw  a  small  opening  and  then  swum 
into  this  and  found  himself  in  a  large  cave,  the  sym- 
bolic representation  of  the  uterus  and  the  birth  pas- 
sage is  fairly  clear.  In  the  ceremonials  of  many 
peoples,  however,  there  is  no  longer  any  room  for 
doubt  as  to  the  true  meaning.  In  Greece  when  a  man 
who  was  supposedly  dead  and  for  whom  funeral 
rites  had  been  performed,  returned,  he  was  still 
treated  as  dead  until  he  had  been  born  again,  which 
consisted  of  being  passed  through  a  woman's  lap, 
washed,  dressed  in  swaddling  clothes  and  put  to  a 
nurse.  In  India  the  ceremonial  for  the  same  pur- 
pose was  more  elaborate.  The  first  night  after  his 
return  was  spent  in  a  tub  filled  with  fat  and  water. 
He  sat  in  the  tub  without  speaking  and  with  doubled- 
up  fists  while  over  him  were  performed  the  sacra- 
ments that  were  celebrated  over  a  pregnant  woman. 
Next  morning  he  got  out  of  the  tub,  went  through 
all  the  sacraments  he  had  formerly  partaken  of  from 
his  youth  up  and  in  particular  married  a  wife  or 
espoused  his  old  one  over  again.  In  Japan  when  a 
marriage  is  unfruitful  the  old  women  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood come  to  the  house  and  go  through  the  cere- 
mony of  delivering  the  wife  of  a  child  represented 
by  a  doll.  Among  the  Akikuyu  of  British  East 
Africa  every  member  of  the  tribe  must  go  through 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  185 

the  ceremony  of  being  reborn.  In  the  afternoon  a 
goat  or  sheep  is  killed  for  the  stomach  and  intestines. 
A  circular  piece  of  the  goat  or  the  sheepskin  is 
passed  over  one  shoulder  and  under  the  other  arm 
of  the  child  and  the  animal's  stomach  over  the  other 
shoulder  and  under  the  other  arm.  The  mother, 
or  the  woman  acting  in  that  capacity  and  who 
therefore  is  regarded  as  the  mother  thenceforth,  sits 
on  a  hide  with  the  child  between  her  knees.  The 
animal's  gut  is  passed  about  her  and  brought  in 
front  of  the  child.  She  groans  as  if  in  labour,  a 
woman  severs  the  gut  as  if  it  were  the  navel  string, 
and  the  child  imitates  the  cry  of  a  new-born  infant. 
Among  the  natives  of  German  New  Guinea  9  the  rite 
of  circumcision  symbolises  a  re-birth.  The  young 
men  are  taken  to  a  long  hut  built  to  resemble  a  huge 
monster  with  great  eyes  and  emitting  terrifying 
growls  from  time  to  time  as  the  lads  approach.  In 
this  hut  they  are  circumcised  and  live  afterward 
for  some  three  or  four  months.  After  this  period 
of  seclusion  is  over  they  come  forth  and  are  then 
treated  as  full-grown  men. 

When  we  correlate  with  facts  of  this  sort  the  well- 
known  curiosity  of  children  to  know  where  babies 
come  from,  their  inventions  of  all  sorts  of  explana- 
tions which  the  grown-ups  try  to  sidetrack  by  the 
stork  story,  and  then  realise  that  one  of  the  most 
profound  and  wide  spread  bases  upon  which  early 
society  was  organised — totemism — had  its  root,  in  all 

»Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Belief  in  Immortality  and  the  Worship  of 
the  Dead,"  Vol.  I,  Lect.  XI. 


186  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

probability,  in  a  like  attempt  to  explain  the  phenom- 
ena of  pregnancy  and  the  origin  of  the  child,  and 
when  we  realise  further  that  in  the  Christian  religion 
we  find  a  highly  sublimated  symbolic  re-birth  play- 
ing an  important  part  we  can  begin  to  see  that  after 
all  it  is  not  so  very  strange  or  grotesque  that  our 
patients  should  dream  in  this  very  concrete  way  of 
being  born  again. 

The  all-powerfulness  of  thought  is  the  principle 
at  the  basis  of  the  magic  rites  of  primitive  man  as 
it  is  of  the  conduct  of  the  baby  and  is  dependent  upon 
that  developmental  stage  through  which  the  mind 
passes  and  in  which  no  adequate  separation  has  yet 
been  made  between  the  "I"  and  the  "not  I," — the 
stage  of  "introjection"  of  Ferenczi  in  which  the 
environment  enters  into  and  forms  a  part  of  the  Ego. 

In  the  illustration  of  the  Melanesians  who  treat  the 
arrow  instead  of  the  man  wounded  by  it,  we  see  the 
same  principle  involved  as  in  the  illustration  of  the 
baby.  The  savage  believes  that  there  is  a  sympa- 
thetic relation  between  the  wound  and  the  instru- 
ment which  inflicted  it  that  we  know  does  not  exist. 
He  has  not  been  able  adequately  and  effectively  to 
separate  himself  from  his  environment. 

We  see  that  very  same  phenomenon  in  the  psy- 
choses. No  symptom  is  more  common  in  dementia 
prsecox  than  that  of  being  influenced  by  the  environ- 
ment— the  delusion  of  influence.  The  environment 
from  being  something  upon  which  to  expend  energy, 
something  outside  of  the  ego,  something  that  has  to 
be  dealt  with,  moulded  and  shaped,  reacted  to  effi- 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  187 

ciently,  suddenly  becomes  filled  with  mysterious 
meanings.  A  strange  feeling  of  influence  comes 
from  all  directions,  sources  that  frequently  cannot 
be  clearly  defined  and  sources  when  they  are  defined 
that  remind  us  of  the  world  of  primitive  man.  It 
becomes  peopled  with  myriad  forms,  voices  speak 
from  unseen  beings,  from  animals,  and  even  from 
trees.  There  are  strange  visions,  all  sorts  of  magical 
things  happen,  electricity,  wireless  telegraphy, 
thought  reading  and  bad  influences  of  all  sorts 
abound.  The  psychosis  has  plunged  the  patient  to 
a  lower  cultural  level  and  he  reacts  in  a  way  to 
remind  us  of  the  savage  rather  than  of  the  civilised 
man.  His  whole  environment  has  assumed  an  inti- 
mate personal  relationship,  its  elements  animate  and 
inanimate  alike  have  been  personified,  he  is  in  a 
mental  stage  corresponding  to  the  animistic  stage  of 
development  of  primitive  man.  There  is  no  longer 
a  clear  differentiation  between  the  ego  and  the  envi- 
ronment. 

In  the  neuroses  and  the  psychoneuroses  we  are  all 
familiar  with  that  quality  of  the  patients  that  makes 
us  recognise  them  as  infantile.  The  patient  with  a 
well  marked  complex  formation  finally  gets  so  that 
almost  everything  in  life  is  assimilated  in  some  way 
to  the  complex.  Hardly  anything  can  happen  with- 
out touching  a  painful  point  that  arouses  the  complex 
to  activity  and  so  the  environment  begins,  as  it  were, 
to  intrude  more  and  more  into  the  patient's  person- 
ality as  the  malady  grows  worse.  The  patient  be- 
comes progressively  less  able  to  separate  his  person- 


188  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ality  from  the  world  at  large.  It  is  the  same  sort 
of  thing  we  see  in  a  certain  type  of  housekeeper  who 
never  can  rest  until  everything  is  just  exactly  so  and 
whose  whole  scheme  of  life  is  destroyed  if  a  picture 
on  the  wall  does  not  hang  straight. 

We  also  see  the  infantile  characteristics  in  the  con- 
stant reiteration  of  their  troubles;  the  emphasis 
which  they  place  upon  certain,  often  inconsequential 
occurrences ;  the  regrets  and  the  prolonged  accounts 
of  what  might  have  been  "if"  only  such  and  such 
things  had  not  happened.  It  is  as  though  by  very 
emphasis  things  could  be  changed,  as  if  the  mill 
could  really  be  turned  with  the  water  that  was  past. 
This  reversion  to  the  all-powerfulness  of  thought, 
this  living  in  the  past  are  important  factors  in  crip- 
pling the  individual  so  as  to  prevent  anything  like 
an  adequate  dealing  with  reality.  They  will  be  seen, 
too,  to  represent  earlier  phases  both  ontogenetic  and 
phylogenetic.  The  reaction  of  the  neurotic  can  only 
receive  a  comprehensive  understanding  through  an 
understanding  both  of  the  mind  of  the  child  and  the 
mind  of  primitive  man. 

Mankind  passes  through  these  stages  of  develop- 
ment— the  periods  of  magic  and  of  all  powerful 
thoughts.  The  child  exhibits  these  stages  and  so 
does  primitive  man — the  child  of  the  race.  But  real- 
ity is  inexorable.  In  Anhalt,10  after  planting  his 
crops,  the  sower  leaps  high  in  the  air  and  throws 

icFrazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Part  I.  "The 
Magic  Art  and  the  Evolution  of  Kings,"  Vol.  I,  Chap.  III. 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  189 

the  seed  bag  high  up  also,  for  as  high  as  he  throws  the 
seed  bag  so  high  he  hopes  the  flax  to  grow.  The 
men  of  the  emur  totem  of  the  Arunta  tribe,  in  order 
to  create  emurs,  which  are  an  important  article  of 
their  food,  let  their  blood  flow  upon  the  ground  and 
then  when  the  ground  is  dry  and  caked  they  paint 
upon  it  the  sacred  design  of  the  emur,  especially  the 
parts  they  like  to  eat.  Primitive  man  feels  greatly 
the  need  for  rain,  so  he  goes  about  getting  it  by  the 
principles  of  homeopathic,11  or  imitative  magic, 
simulating  it  by  sprinkling  water  on  the  ground  and 
otherwise  imitating  a  storm. 

These  are  fairly  illustrative  examples  of  the  magic 
rites  of  primitive  man.  But  it  must  often  have  hap- 
pened that  no  matter  how  high  he  jumped  or  threw 
the  seed  bag  that  the  crops  were  poor  or  failed,  no 
matter  how  freely  he  gave  his  blood  for  the  creation 
of  animals  for  food  they  were  not  numerous  enough 
to  supply  his  needs,  no  matter  how  diligently  he 
practised  his  rain  charms  the  sky  stayed  clear  and 
the  earth  hot  and  parched. 

It  is  the  same  way  with  the  child.  It  must  hap- 
pen, sooner  or  later,  that  he  reaches  out  his  hand 
and  it  comes  back  empty;  he  cries,  for  the  moon 
perhaps,  and  he  must  go  without. 

In  both  instances  failure  repeatedly  occurs,  and 
finally  the  formula  which  is  not  the  right  formula 
must  be  put  aside  and  primitive  man  and  the  child 

"Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Part  I.  "The 
Magic  Art  and  the  Evolution  of  Kings,"  Vol.  I,  Chap.  V. 


190  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

alike  are  forced  to  acknowledge  their  methods  as 
failures.12  Eepeated  disappointments  operate  as 
constant  spurs  to  cause  a  further  investigation  of 
and  a  more  intimate  contact  with  reality  to  the  end 
of  an  ever  more  and  more  efficient  adaptation.  The 
tools  available  to  these  undeveloped  minds  are  simple 
and  ineffective  and  so  the  process  is  slow  and  falter- 
ing and  results  in  a  tremendous  sacrifice  of  energy. 
Yet  this  is  the  way  the  race  has  grown  and  it  is  upon 
such  a  foundation  of  rude  beginnings  that  our  pres- 
ent civilisation  rests :  it  is  from  such  humble  origins 
that  the  minds  of  to-day  have  sprung,  and  it  is  only 
by  understanding  the  various  steps  in  the  path  of  this 
progress  that  we  can  come  to  an  understanding  of 
mental  phenomena  as  we  find  them  now. 

This  tendency  to  react  as  though  thought  was  all- 
powerful  is  denominated  the  Gottmensch  or  the 
Jehovah  complex  and  is  manifested  in  either  of  two 
ambivalent  tendencies — either  the  tendency  to  act 
as  if  the  individual  were,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  omnip- 
otent or  omniscient  or  both  or,  the  exact  opposite, 
to  effect  an  humbleness  which  really  implies  such 
superiority. 

If  the  creative  energy,  the  libido,  is  always  striving 
for  greater  things,  more  significant  and  larger  con- 
quests, more  power,  then  the  will  to  power  may  be 
considered  as  the  motive  underlying  all  conduct  and 
therefore  by  no  means  abnormal,  because  a  universal 

12  Royce,  Josiah :  "Primitive  Ways  of  Thinking  with  Special 
Reference  to  Negation  and  Classification."  The  Open  Court,  Oct., 
1913. 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  191 

attribute.  It  is,  here,  as  elsewhere,  not  the  nature 
of  the  driving  force  that  calls  for  the  qualification 
as  abnormal  but  the  way  in  which  that  force  is  used 
and  made  to  subserve  possible,  practical,  pragmatic 
ends.  The  degree  to  which  it  fails  of  this  form  of 
utilisation  is  the  degree  of  its  abnormality. 

The  primitive  signs  of  the  Gottmensch  complex 
are  the  outward  and  evident  signs  of  a  great  and 
often  overbearing  egotism  that  brooks  no  contradic- 
tion. A  self-sufficiency  and  self-assertiveness  which, 
in  really  efficient  individuals  makes  for  great  accom- 
plishments but  is  only  too  often  the  expression  of  an 
over-compensation  for  grave  defects  of  character. 
Such  persons  express  opinions  about  everything 
with  a  concrete  finality,  they  obtrude  themselves 
upon  all  occasions,  and  believe  themselves  capable 
of  occupying  any  position,  no  matter  how  exalted. 
They  freely  criticise  and  as  freely  tell  what  they 
would  have  done  under  such  and  such  conditions. 
Their  general  carriage  and  demeanour  are  prone 
to  be  self-assertive  to  the  point  of  being  bombastic 
and  are  then,  very  frequently,  upon  an  evident  back- 
ground of  inefficiency  and  inherent  weakness. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  delusions  of  grandeur 
in  the  psychoses.  The  one  disease  in  which  they 
assume  a  degree  of  outlandishness  and  absurdity 
greater  than  in  any  other  is  paresis  where  corre- 
spondingly the  real  defect,  as  the  result  of  a  destruc- 
tive disease  of  the  brain,  is  greatest.  This,  it  seems 
to  me,  stamps  the  delusions  of  grandeur  in  paresis 
as,  largely  at  least,  phenomena  of  over-compensation 


192  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

for  the  organic  defect  produced  by  the  disease.  Here 
delusions  tend  in  two  main  directions — money  power 
and  sexual  power.  These  patients  have  so  much 
money  that  they  no  longer  can  express  the  amount  in 
the  terms  available  but  have  to  invent  new  words 
for  the  purpose,  while  their  sexual  power  is  expressed 
by  their  hundreds  of  wives  and  concubines  and  thou- 
sands of  children. 

The  ambivalent  expression  of  the  Gottmensch 
complex  is  expressed  by  the  most  extreme  humble- 
ness, diffidence  and  modesty.  Jones  cites  the  case 1S 
of  a  man  who  said  he  lived  in  the  last  house  in  the 
city.  The  delusions  of  persecution  of  the  paranoiac 
imply  his  great  importance — because  of  the  impor- 
tant persons,  societies,  kings,  the  great  money 
powers,  the  Catholic  Church,  etc.,  who  are  engaged 
in  trying  to  bring  about  his  ruin.  The  idea  of 
grandeur  back  of  it  all  is  frequently  seen  in  the  satis- 
faction displayed  in  telling  of  these  persecutions 
and  also  in  demonstrating  how,  in  spite  of  all  their 
arts  and  power,  he  has  been  able  always  to  circum- 
vent their  designs. 

In  paresis  too,  we  see  the  opposite  picture  of  the 
classical  delusions  of  grandeur  but  quite  as  extrava- 
gant in  their  way.  For  example,  the  paretic  believes 
he  has  no  stomach  and  has  similar  absurd  and  wholly 
impossible  ideas  which  are  well  contrasted  with  the 

is  Jones,  Ernest:  Der  Gottmensch-Komplex.  Internat.  Zeitschr. 
f.  Xrztliche  Psychoan.  Vol.  I,  No.  4.  Abstracted  in  the  Psycho- 
analytic Review,  Vol.  I,  No.  4. 


THE  WILL  TO  POWER  193 

ideas  of  grandeur  by  the  term  micromanic  applied 
to  them  by  Kraepelin.14 

Innumerable  minor  ways  of  manifesting  this  com- 
plex are  seen.  In  the  main  they  consist  of  all  sorts 
of  devices  that  serve  to  set  off  the  individual  from 
his  fellows ;  to  make  him  different,  not  like  the  rest ; 
to  isolate  him  in  a  world  all  his  own  in  which  he  is 
supreme.  Such  devices  are  peculiar  forms  of  speech 
and  ways  of  speaking;  non-understandable  and 
involved  methods  of  expression  in  speech  or  writing ; 
illegible  handwriting;  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  and 
culture  along  recondite,  obscure,  impracticable  and 
little  known  paths;  the  affectation  of  odd  manner- 
isms; ways  of  dressing  that  attract  notice;  and  a 
thousand  and  one  peculiarities  as  numerous  as  the 
individuals  using  them.  Glueck  reports  15  a  para- 
noid patient  in  this  hospital  whose  detailed  care  to 
keep  himself  from  contact,  in  any  way,  direct  or  in- 
direct, reminds  us  very  strongly  of  the  ideas  of 
sacredness  that  attach  to  royal  personages  and  of 
the  taboos  that  grow  up  about  them.16 

The  psychological  basis  of  the  Gottmensch  com- 
plex, or  at  least  its  fundamental  and  principal  basis, 
is  an  identification  with  the  father,  God  being  in  this 

i*  Kraepelin,  E.:  General  Paresis,  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Mono- 
graph Series  No.  14. 

is  Glueck,  B.:  The  God  Man  or  Jehovah  Complex.  Jf.  T.  Med. 
Jour.,  Sept.  4,  1915. 

is  Cf.  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Part  II,  Ta- 
boo and  the  Perils  of  the  Soul.  See  especially  Chap.  I,  The  Burden  of 
Royalty,  and  that  portion  of  Chap.  IV  dealing  with  the  taboos  of 
Chiefs  and  Kings. 


194  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sense  only  an  enlarged,  idealised,  and  projected 
father  image.  The  autoerotic  and  exhibitionistic 
determiners  which  Jones  emphasises,17  will  be  dwelt 
on  in  the  next  chapter  in  the  discussion  of  partial 
libido  trends. 

IT  Loc.  tit. 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  WILL  TO  POWER  (Cont.) 

What  you  are  stands  over  you  the  while,  and  thunders  so 
that  I  cannot  hear  what  you  say  to  the  contrary. —  EMERSON, 
— Social  Aims. 

PARTIAL  LIBIDO   STRIVINGS 

The  body  is  composed  of  cells,  the  cells  are  grouped 
into  organs,  and  the  organs  correlated  and  inte- 
grated to  serve  the  ends  of  the  individual.  Similarly 
society  is  made  up  of  individuals  which  are  grouped 
and  regrouped  into  larger  and  larger  subdivisions 
thereof  in  a  quite  analogous  way.  We  are  familiar 
with  the  clashing  interests  of  different  groups  of 
individuals,  societies,  classes,  and  in  legislative 
bodies,  wards,  counties  or  states.  Those  who  have 
followed  legislative  processes  know  that  it  is  rare 
indeed  when  a  given  bill  meets  with  anything  like  uni- 
versal favour.  Generally  it  is  opposed  from  many 
sides  and  has  to  yield  first  here  and  then  there  by 
accepting  amendments  which  express  those  oppo- 
sitions. Finally  the  bill  as  passed  may  have  little 
resemblance  to  its  original  form  so  changed  is  it  as 
a  result  of  the  war  which  has  been  waged  about  it. 
The  result  which  has  been  reached  is  the  final  result 
of  a  series  of  compromises  with  the  various  opposing 

195 


196  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

forces.  Just  so  it  is  with  the  body  or  the  psyche 
for  that  matter.  Each  organ,  in  fact  each  cell  would 
absorb  the  entire  individual  so  that  he  would  be  all 
liver  or  all  stomach,  or  all  anything  else  as  the  case 
might  be  if  the  organ  in  question  succeeded  in  so 
dominating  the  situation  that  its  will  to  power  was  no 
longer  hampered,  held  in  check,  by  the  interests,  the 
strivings,  the  will  to  power  of  other  organs.  This 
hierarchy  of  organs  and  functions  and,  heretofore 
described,  of  reacting  levels,  finally  leads  to  the 
hegemony  of  the  psyche  in  which,  so  to  speak,  the 
final  compromises  are  reached  and  which,  as  a  result, 
is  able  to  pick  up  and  sort  out  the  tendencies  of  all 
the  parts,  and  so  group  them  as  to  express  the  striv- 
ings, no  longer  of  the  parts  as  such,  but  of  the  whole 
individual. 

It  will  be  useful  to  keep  this  viewpoint  of  struggle 
between  the  parts  of  the  organism  in  mind.  For  the 
present  the  important  thing  to  note  is  that  these 
tendencies  and  counter-tendencies  can  be  separated 
into  two  great  groups,  namely,  those  which  make  for 
the  preservation  of  the  individual  and  those  which 
make  for  the  maintenance  and  perpetuation  of  the 
race — the  self -preservative  and  the  race-preservative 
tendencies  respectively.  Or  to  put  it  in  terms  of 
libido,  the  libido  has  two  main  tendencies,  the  self- 
preservative  or  nutritional  libido  and  the  race-pre- 
servative or  sexual  libido.  It  will  be  useful,  there- 
fore, to  consider  the  various  strivings  of  the  indi- 
vidual from  the  standpoint  of  which  one  of  these 
groups  they  fall  into. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  197 

Let  us  take  first  the  sexual  libido.  As  has  already 
been  indicated  the  child  has  first  to  be  tremendously 
interested  in  its  own  body.  This  is  a  necessary  pre- 
condition for  the  growth  of  the  ego-consciousness, 
that  is  for  effecting  that  progress  in  development 
which  has  for  its  object  the  separating  of  the  "I" 
from  the  "not  I."  This  is  the  period  of  autoeroti- 
cism  for  the  interest  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  love  interest,  a 
love  of  one 's  self  that  is  erotic,  i.e.,  of  sexual  nature. 
Later  on,  as  this  separation  of  the  self  from  the 
environment  is  effected  the  love  of  the  child  begins 
to  go  out  to  those  about  it  and  at  first  to  that  person 
or  those  persons  who  are  most  like  itself.1  In  other 
words  the  erotic  interest  is  homosexual  and  narcis- 
sistic.2 To  the  extent  that  the  love  object  is  the 
parent,  brother  or  sister  of  the  opposite  sex  the  love 
is  incestuous.  So  that  in  the  course  of  development 
from  autoeroticism  through  narcissism,  homosex- 
uality and  incest  to  an  object  loVe,  that  is  at  once 

iCf.  Freud,  S.:  Three  Contributions  to  the  Theory  of  Sex. 
Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  7. 

2  Narcissus  was  a  beautiful  youth  who  fell  in  love  with  his  own 
image  reflected  from  a  pool  to  which  he  had  bent  to  slake  his 
thirst.  Each  time  he  reached  out  his  arms  to  grasp  the  beautiful 
apparition  it  vanished.  This  was  repeated  over  and  over  again, 
until  finally,  Narcissus  pined  away  and  died.  Olympus  compas- 
sionately changed  the  corpse  into  the  flower  bearing  his  name  which 
has  ever  since  flourished  beside  quiet  pools. 

"A  lonely  flower  he  spied, 

A  meek  and  forlorn  flower,  with  naught  of  pride, 
Drooping  its  beauty  o'er  the  watery  clearness, 
To  woo  its  own  sad  image  into  nearness: 
Deaf  to  light  Zephyrus  it  would  not  move; 
But  still  would  seem  to  droop,  to  pine,  to  love." — KEATS. 


198  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

heterosexual  and  not  incestuous,  certain  barriers 
have  had  to  be  erected,  the  autoerotic  barrier  and  the 
incest  barrier — the  latter  of  which  in  some  of  its 
nuances  has  been  discussed  in  the  discussion  of  the 
family  romance  (Chapter  VII). 

Certain  additional  and  partial  tendencies  are  asso- 
ciated with  this  general  trend,  the  more  important  of 
which  are  exhibitionism  and  its  ambivalent  opposite, 
curiosity.  Exhibitionism  has  its  roots  in  the  desire 
of  the  child  to  show  off  its  body  naked  and  without 
shame  and  therefore  gets  its  pleasure  motive  from 
the  sense  of  freedom — being  without  shame  which 
of  course  represents  the  social  repressions.  Hence 
dreams  of  nakedness  and  Paradise  represented  as  a 
place  where  clothes  are  unnecessary.  The  pompous- 
ness  and  self-assertiveness  of  the  Gottmensch  com- 
plex have  this  root. 

Curiosity  is  the  opposite;  instead  of  projecting 
one's  own  personality  into  the  world,  foisting  it  upon 
people,  one  tries  to  absorb  the  world  in  the  form  of 
knowledge,  to  know  all  things,  to  become  omniscient. 

Curiosity  in  young  children  manifests  itself  as 
sexual  curiosity  and  in  the  form  of  touching  corre- 
lates itself  with  another  of  the  fore-pleasures,  look- 
ing, of  the  sexual  act.3  This  tendency  to  touch  things 
is  seemingly  at  the  root  of  those  propensities  to 
steal,  the  so-called  kleptomania,  in  which  the  tend- 
encies appear  so  mysterious  because  the  things  taken 
have  no  apparent  usefulness  for  the  individual. 
Wealthy  women,  for  example,  who  steal  from  depart- 

»Cf.  Freud:     "Three  Contributions." 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  199 

ment  stores  things  that  they  could  not  possibly  have 
use  for,  or  if  they  did,  which  they  could  easily  afford 
to  buy. 

In  connection  with  these  partial  tendencies,  too, 
the  various  erogenous  zones  should  be  borne  in  mind. 
In  the  child  the  sexual  zone  has  only  the  same  eroge- 
nous quality  as  that  shared  in  by  other  zones  of  the 
body,  particularly  the  mouth  and  anus.  This  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  during  infancy  pleasure  has  been 
associated  with  all  of  these  zones  indifferently.  The 
pleasures  of  urination,  defecation,  and  sucking. 
Pleasure  being  the  moving  force  back  of  all  conduct 
it  is  sought  indifferently  at  first  in  all  of  these  direc- 
tions and  it  is  not  until  a  later  developmental  period 
that  the  primacy  of  the  sexual  zone  is  finally  estab- 
lished. The  failure  to  establish  the  primacy  of  the 
sex  zone  coupled  with  a  delay  in  development  at  the 
homosexual,  narcissistic  level  produces,  as  one  of  its 
results,  the  various  forms  of  sexual  perversions 
which  will  not  be  discussed  more  in  detail  in  this 
work.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  infant  has  been  desig- 
nated as,  sexually,  polymorphous  perverse,  that  is, 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  early  stage  of  develop- 
ment, when  the  instincts  are  a  more  or  less  homo- 
geneous mass,  or  have  not  yet  worked  out  their  means 
and  avenues  of  expression  in  conformity  with  adult 
and  efficient  standards,  the  individual  contains  within 
himself,  not  only  the  possibility  of  a  normal  develop- 
ment but  also  the  possibilities  of  any  one  of  the 
various  deviations  from  the  normal. 

One  of  these  deviations,  anal  eroticism,  is  exceed- 


200  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ingly  interesting  and  shows  the  type  of  mechanism 
very  well,  for  it  has  been  fairly  well  worked  out. 
The  most  notable  characteristics  of  the  person  who 
has  retained  a  certain  amount  of  anal  eroticism  are 
orderliness,  obstinacy,  and  economy.4  With  this 
group  the  affect  of  hate  may  be  exceptionally  in 
evidence.5 

We  can  understand  these  characteristics  if  we  will 
recall  the  infantile  situation.  During  this  period  the 
establishment  of  the  excretory  functions  must  excite 
much  interest  and  wonder.  It  would  seem  to  me 
difficult  to  overestimate  the  effects  that  the  initiation 
of  these  functions  must  have  upon  the  child.  They 
begin  before  the  child  has  differentiated  himself 
from  the  rest  of  the  world,  they  take  place  without 
his  volition,  and  they  are  accompanied  by  massive 
feelings  of  pleasure.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  such 
experiences  the  roots  of  urinary  and  fecal  phan- 
tasies. From  the  very  first  the  bowel  dejecta  are 
treated  as  dirty.  The  child  learns,  as  soon  as  it  can 
learn  anything,  that  fecal  matter  is  considered  dirty 
and  the  bowel  movements  in  the  diaper  are  fre- 
quently denominated  a  "mess."  In  addition  to  this 
attitude  the  child  has  held  up  to  it,  upon  occasions 
when  it  has  soiled  itself,  the  ideal  of  cleanliness, 
neatness,  the  absence  of  a  "mess,"  in  short  the  ideals 
of  neatness  and  orderliness.  It  therefore  happens, 

*  Brill,  A.  A.:  "Psychanalysis,"  Chap.  XI.  Anal  Eroticism  and 
Character,  W.  B.  Saunders  Co.,  Philadelphia,  1912. 

s  Jones,  Ernest :  Hass  und  Analerotik  in  der  Zwangsneurose. 
Int.  Zeitsch.  f.  irztliche  Psychoan.,  Vol.  I,  No.  5.  Abstracted  in 
the  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  II,  No.  1. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  201 

in  later  life,  that  the  reactions  formed  against  anal 
eroticism  are  neatness  and  orderliness. 

Inasmuch  as  the  movements  of  the  bowels  are 
pleasurable  in  a  massive  way  and  are  among  the 
first  pleasures  of  the  infant  it  naturally  resents 
efforts  that  are  made  to  rob  it  of  this  pleasure.  As 
the  time  and  place  of  bowel  movements  are  among 
the  first  to  fall  under  the  ban  of  social  repression  this 
pleasure  is,  from  the  first,  interfered  with  by  nurse 
or  mother.  The  child  in  its  effort  to  retain  the  pleas- 
ure thus  interfered  with  develops  the  character  of 
obstinacy,  that  is,  fights  for  its  own  way,  strives  to 
retain  this  particular  form  of  satisfaction  in  the  face 
of  forces  that  tend  to  rob  it  of  the  pleasure. 

The  economical  characteristic  is  a  little  more  diffi- 
cult to  explain.  One  of  the  ways  of  securing  and 
embracing  the  pleasure  associated  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  bowels  is  by  retaining  the  f eces  and  so 
increasing  the  massiveness  of  the  pleasurable  results. 
The  anal  erotic  is,  therefore,  characteristically  con- 
stipated. This  tendency  to  retain  and  accumulate 
is  extended  and,  if  well  sublimated  shows  itself  in 
economy,  tendencies  to  collect,  for  example  to  make 
art  collections,  collections  of  books,  and  in  many 
other  more  or  less  useful  ways.  When  not  so  well 
sublimated  the  tendency  is  to  penuriousness,  avari- 
ciousness,  miserliness,  and  the  collection  of  useless 
things. 

The  relation  of  money  to  anal  erotic  is  still  further 
determined.  It  is  probably  partly  determined  by  the 
association  of  the  least  valuable  with  the  most  valu- 


202  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

able  although  we  shall  see  among  savages  how  fecal 
matter  comes  to  be  regarded  as  of  great  value. 
They  are  probably  further  associated  by  the  common 
colour — yellow.  The  existence  of  many  common  ex- 
pressions such  as  "filthy  lucre"  shows  how  general 
this  association  really  is. 

I  have  said  that  hate  was  characteristic  of  the  anal 
erotic.  If  the  description  of  obstinacy  is  borne  in 
mind  it  will  be  seen  how  the  child,  constantly  inter- 
fered with  in  the  enjoyment  of  its  pleasure,  not  only 
becomes  obstinate  but  becomes  resentful  against  the 
person  who  is  thus  always  interfering.  Herein  prob- 
ably is  the  origin  of  the  hate  reaction  and  inasmuch 
as  the  person  against  whom  it  is  projected  is  usually 
the  mother,  that  is,  the  person  most  loved,  it  is  seen 
that  the  hate  reaction  is  first  manifested  towards  the 
most  loved  person.  This  being  the  original  form  of 
experience  it  is  natural  that  thereafter  hate  should 
easily  arise  in  connection  with  all  later  objects  of 
love.  The  close  connection  between  love  and  hate 
has  always  been  recognised.  Here  is  probably  also 
an  important  root  of  sadism.6  In  those  individuals 
who  have  failed  completely  either  to  sublimate  or  to 
form  effective  reactions  against  these  instinctive 
tendencies  but  who  live  on  in  their  infancy,  so  to 
speak,  we  find  a  noticeable  tendency  to  carelessness 
in  dress  amounting  to  slovenliness,  uncleanliness, 
general  disorderliness,  a  tendency  to  go  frequently 
to  stool  and  great  irritability  when  interfered  with. 

e  The  gratification  of  the  sexual  feeling  by  seeing  or  inflicting 
pain. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  203 

This  is  a  common  picture  in  the  asylums  and  the 
explanation  here  given  has  been  worked  out  by  Dr. 
E.  J.  Kempf  .7 

A  rather  similar  situation  prevails  with  regard  to 
the  urethral  (urinary)  erotic.  I  recall  a  dream  of 
a  friend  of  mine ;  he  dreamt  of  Karl  Marx'  definition 
of  wealth  which  amounted  to  saying  that  wealth  was 
the  surplus  product  of  trade.  The  idea  of  surplus 
product  went  right  back,  upon  analysis,  to  interest 
in  urinary  excretion.  Urine  of  course  is  also  a  sur- 
plus product,  also  yellow  like  gold. 

Masturbation  produces  another  one  of  these 
''pleasures  of  expulsion"  all  of  which  are  autoerotic 
efforts  at  gaining  omnipotence,  at  being  self -sufficient 
in  the  sense  of  not  having  to  go  beyond  one's  own 
body  for  satisfactions.  People  who  still  react  in 
these  infantile  ways  are  very  impatient  of  inter- 
ference, irritable,  restless,  " nervous";  having  been 
accustomed  to  find  the  sources  of  satisfaction  within 
themselves  they  are  unable  to  brook  the  delays  im- 
posed by  the  world  of  reality. 

It  is  significant  to  note  in  all  these  types  of  reac- 
tion that  the  distinction  made  at  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter,  of  nutritive  and  sexual  libido,  is  not  at 
all  clear.  Urination  and  defecation  belong  on  the 
nutritive  side  of  the  fence  but  we  find  these  functions 
utilised  as  sources  of  erotic  pleasure.  This  admix- 
ture is  still  further  in  evidence  in  the  ceremonials 
of  primitive  man.8  Here  we  find  feces,  for  example, 

7  Personal  communication. 

sjelliffe,    S.    E.    and    Zenia    X :     Compulsion    Neurosis    and 


204  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

greatly  valued.  Such  values  can  only  be  understood 
by  keeping  constantly  in  mind  that  they  are  uncon- 
scious values,  that  the  unconscious  is  laid  down  in 
infancy  before  the  development  of  critique  and  that 
the  values  have  reference  to  feeling  tones  and  not  to 
intellectually  appreciated  qualities.  To  the  infant, 
therefore,  anything  that  comes  from  the  body  may 
easily  have  the  same  value  be  it  urine,  feces,  sweat 
or  blood. 

This  way  of  thinking  is  well  illustrated  in  the  cus- 
toms of  primitive  men.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
savage  believes  that  any  part  of  his  body  or  even 
his  clothes  partakes  of  himself,  his  life,  so  that  if  a 
sorcerer  gets  a  bit  of  his  nail-paring,  a  lock  of  his 
hair,  or  even  a  shred  of  his  blanket  he  can  by  magic 
make  the  owner  ill.  So  the  Fijians  extend  this  to 
bits  of  food  left  over  and  even  to  their  excretions 
which  are  deposited  in  secret  for  fear  that  a  sor- 
cerer might,  through  them,  gain  control  over  them.9 

In  Tud  or  Warrior  Island,  Torres  Straits,  men 
drink  the  sweat  of  renowned  warriors  and  eat  the 
scrapings  from  their  finger-nails  which  had  become 
coated  and  sodden  with  human  blood.  This  was 
done  "to  make  strong  and  like  stone;  no  afraid.*' 10 

Primitive    Culture.     The    Psychoanalytic    Revieic,    Vol.    I,    No.    4. 

Brink,  Louise:  Frazer's  "Golden  Bough."  The  Psychoanalytic 
Review,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  1. 

» Thomson,  Basil:  "The  Fijians,"  cited  by  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The 
Belief  in  Immortality,"  Vol.  I.  Macmillan  &  Co.,  1913. 

loHadden,  A.  C.:  The  Ethnography  of  the  Western  Tribes  of 
Torres  Straits,  cited  by  Frazer,  J.  G. :  "The  Golden  Bough"  (3rd 
Ed.),  Part  V.  Spirits  of  the  Corn  and  of  the  Wild,  Vol.  II. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  205 

The  Papuans  believed  that  the  soul  resided  in  the 
blood.11  The  custom  of  savages  wounding  them- 
selves and  mixing  their  blood  and  so  becoming  blood 
relatives  12  is  an  elaboration  of  their  way  of  thinking 
of  blood. 

The  blood,  the  urine,  the  feces,  the  perspiration, 
anything  in  fact  that  had  touched  the  body,  particu- 
larly anything  that  came  from  it  was  possessed  of 
its  spiritual  essence,  was  part  of  it.  Their  physical 
separation  from  the  individual  did  not,  however, 
sever  their  connection  really.  They  still  stood  in 
sympathetic  relation  with  the  individual,  and  because 
being  of  him  he  could  be  influenced  through  them. 

The  associational  way  of  thinking  which  leads  to 
like  results  is  well  illustrated  in  the  case  of  Zenia 
X — :— 13  She  was  afraid  that  she  would  offend  God 
if,  for  example,  her  tears  came  between  her  and  God 
when  at  prayer.  She  thought  this  way  about  her 
tears  because  her  tears  might  have  been  due  to  im- 
pure, unclean  thoughts. 

We  see  this  way  of  thinking  exemplified  in  the  so- 
called  birth  and  impregnation  phantasies  which  are 
of  such  frequent  occurrence  in  dreams  and  in  the 
symbolism  not  only  of  the  neuroses  and  the  psychoses 
but  of  everyday  life. 

It  seems  improbable,  on  the  face  of  it,  when  a 

11  Goudswaard,  A. :     De  Papoewa's  van  de  Geelvinksbaai,  cited  by 
Frazer:     "Belief  in  Immortality." 

12  Tyler,  E.  B.:     Anthropology,  Int.  Sci.  Se.     D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
New  York,  1893. 

is  Jellife  and  Zenia  X .  loc.  cit. 


206  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

movement  of  the  bowels  has  been  put  down  as  a  birth 
phantasy  and  eating  was  said  to  symbolise  sexual 
intercourse.  Let  us  examine  the  evidence. 

Early  in  the  life  of  the  child,  as  in  that  of  man, 
the  origin  of  life,  as  represented  by  the  advent  of  a 
new  human  being,  is  regarded  with  curiosity  and 
wonder.  We  can  easily  understand  this,  for  the 
more  we  learn  about  it  the  greater  does  the  wonder 
become.  The  important  point  I  wish  to  emphasize, 
however,  is  that  in  neither  instance,  that  of  the  child 
or  of  primitive  man,  is  there  any  relation  known  be- 
tween sexual  intercourse,  pregnancy,  and  childbirth. 
Why  this  is  so  with  the  child  we  know,  the  reasons 
for  this  ignorance  among  primitive  men  are  many. 
I  will  only  mention  one,  namely,  the  long  time  that 
elapses  between  impregnation  and  the  first  signs  of 
foetal  life  effectually  prevents  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect  from  being  established. 

Now  both  children  and  savages  know,  in  a  vague 
way,  that  the  child  for  a  time  resides  in  the  body  of 
the  mother.  How  it  gets  there?  where  it  comes  from 
anyway?  is  the  subject  of  much  theorising. 

The  natives  of  Central  Australia  14  think  that  in 
a  far  distant  past  they  call  "Alcheringa"  their  an- 
cestors, when  they  died,  went  into  the  ground  at 
certain  spots  which  are  known  by  some  natural 
feature  such  as  a  stone  or  tree.  At  such  spots  their 
ancestral  spirits  are  ever  waiting  a  favourable  oppor- 

i*  Frazer,  J.  G. :  "Totemism  and  Exogamy.  A  Treatise  on  Cer- 
tain Early  Forms  of  Superstition  and  Society."  4  vols.,  Macmillan 
and  Co.,  London,  1910,  Vol.  I,  p.  93. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  207 

tunity  for  reincarnation,  and  if  a  young  girl  or 
woman  passes  they  pounce  upon  her,  enter  her,  and 
secure  their  chance  of  being  born  again  into  the 
world.  In  the  Arunta  and  Kaitish 15  tribes  the 
totem  of  the  child  is  determined  by  the  place  where 
the  mother  first  "felt  life,"  as  the  child  is  supposed 
to  be  the  re-incarnation  of  a  spirit  belonging  to  the 
totem  occupying  this  locality.  In  the  Central  Aus- 
tralian tribes  16  this  theory,  that  the  child  is  a  re- 
born ancestor,  a  re-incarnation  of  the  dead,  is  uni- 
versally held.  The  Baganda  believe  17  that  excep- 
tionally a  woman  may  be  impregnated  without  com- 
merce with  the  other  sex,  and  so  when  a  woman  finds 
herself  in  this  state  and  the  usual  explanation  is  not 
evident,  she  may  claim  that  the  pregnancy  is  due  to 
the  flower  of  a  banana  falling  on  her  back  or 
shoulders  while  she  was  at  work,  and  this  explana- 
tion is  accepted.  In  the  island  of  Mota  in  the  Bank's 
Group,18  if  a  woman  happens  to  find,  while  seated  in 
the  bush,  an  animal  or  fruit  of  some  sort  in  her  loin- 
cloth she  carefully  takes  it  home,  and  if  an  animal, 
makes  a  place  for  it,  tends  and  feeds  it.  After  a 
while  if  the  animal  has  disappeared  it  is  because  it 
has  entered  into  the  woman.  When  the  child  is  born 
it  is  regarded  as  being  in  some  way  the  animal  or 
fruit  and  may  never  eat  this  animal  or  fruit  in  its 
life-time  on  pain  of  a  serious  illness  or  death.  Here 

is  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  155. 
IB  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  191. 
17  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  II,  p.  507. 
is  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  II,  p.  90. 


208  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

we  are  quite  close  to  the  primitive  idea  of  a  soul 
which,  as  is  known,  is  conceived  of  as  a  living  being 
that  can  leave  the  body  and  return  to  it.  We  see 
this  analogy  more  clearly  among  the  Melanesians.19 
A  pregnant  woman  fancies  that  a  cocoa-nut  or  bread 
fruit  has  some  kind  of  connection  with  her  child. 
When  the  child  is  born  it  is  the  nunu  of  the  cocoa-nut 
or  what  not,  and  as  in  the  previous  instance  the  fruit 
is  taboo  for  the  child.  It  is  instructive  to  learn  that 
the  words  atai  and  tamaniu  used  on  the  island  of 
Mota20  to  express  this  relationship  are  accepted 
equivalents  for  the  English  word  "soul."  And 
finally  we  get  the  extreme  of  concreteness  in  the 
Tlinglit  tribe  21  of  Northwest  America.  When  a  be- 
loved person  dies  the  relatives  take  the  nail  from 
the  little  finger  of  his  right  hand  and  a  lock  of  hair 
from  the  right  side  of  his  head  and  put  them  in  the 
belt  of  a  young  girl.  The  young  woman  then  fasts 
a  prescribed  time,  and  prays  just  before  she  breaks 
her  fast  that  the  dead  person  may  be  born  again 
from  her. 

These  examples  show  the  extremely  material  and 
concrete  character  of  the  savage  concepts  still 
further  emphasised  by  the  widely  prevalent  belief 
that  at  the  moment  of  " quickening'*  some  animal 
has  entered  the  woman's  womb.22  It  is  quite  evident 
to  her  that  something  has  entered  her,  and  what  more 

i»Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy/'  Vol.  II,  p.  84. 
2<>Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  II,  p.  81. 
2iFrazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  Ill,  p.  274. 
22  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  157  sqq. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  209 

natural  than  to  suppose  it  to  be  the  spirit  of  the 
animal,  bird,  or  plant  that  she  was  looking  at  when 
she  first  felt  the  movements  of  the  child.  This  belief, 
coupled  with  the  belief  of  the  Minnetarees 23  or 
Hidatas  of  the  Siouan  or  Dacotan  stock,  that  there 
is  a  great  cave  the  Makadistati  or  "  House  of  In- 
fants" which  contains  spirit  children  waiting  to  be 
born,  and  it  is  these  children  who  enter  women  and 
are  born  of  them,  the  theme  of  Maeterlinck's  "Blue 
Bird,"  is  near  enough  to  the  common  ideas  of  chil- 
dren with  which  all  are  familiar,  that  babies  are 
brought  by  the  stork  or  the  doctor,  to  need  no  further 
comment  on  that  score. 

In  introducing  this  subject  of  the  theories  of  im- 
pregnation I  said  that  it  had  often  been  found  that 
eating  together  was  symbolic  of  sexual  intercourse. 
There  is  plenty  of  anthropological  verification  for 
that  statement.  When  a  man  of  the  Wogait  tribe  of 
Northern  Australia 24  kills  game  or  gathers  vege- 
tables while  hunting  he  gives  of  this  food  to  his  wife 
who  is  obliged  to  eat  believing  that  the  food  will 
cause  her  to  conceive  and  bring  forth  a  child,  while 
among  the  tribes  around  the  Cairns  district  in  North 
Queensland25  the  acceptance  of  food  by  a  woman 
from  a  man  constitutes  a  marriage  ceremony  as  well 
as  being  the  cause  of  conception. 

We  have  seen  that  when  a  woman  " quickened" 
she  thought  the  spirit  of  the  animal  or  plant  that 

23  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  Ill,  p.  150. 
2*Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  576. 
25  Frazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,"  Vol.  I,  p.  577. 


210  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

happened  to  be  near  had  entered  her  womb,  so  we 
see  now  that  it  is  quite  as  possible  to  attribute  the 
child  to  food  that  enters  the  body  by  the  mouth. 
Here  is  an  extremely  interesting  relation  between 
the  sexual  and  the  nutritive  and  is  a  deadly  parallel 
to  the  child's  belief  that  it  is  what  its  mother  has 
eaten  that  makes  the  baby  grow  in  her. 

If  it  is  the  food  that  makes  the  child  grow  in  the 
mother's  body  it  is  only  a  step  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  exit  of  the  baby  therefrom  shall  be  via  the  alimen- 
tary canal.  This  cloacal  theory  of  birth  is  one  of 
the  commonest  formulations  of  the  child  mind  and 
is  of  course  at  the  basis  of  the  birth  phantasies  I 
have  already  mentioned  as  being  associated  with 
movements  of  the  bowels.  Have  we  any  corrobora- 
tive evidence  that  similar  ideas  were  held  during  the 
childhood  of  the  race? 

The  Pennefather  blacks  of  Northeast  Australia  2<J 
believe  in  a  being  they  call  Anjea,  who  was  originally 
made  by  Thunder,  and  who  fashions  babies  of  swamp- 
mud  and  inserts  them  in  the  wombs  of  women.  I 
need  hardly  point  the  analogy  of  swamp-mud  to 
feces. 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  this  crude  concept  of  savage 
man  to  the  beautiful  Greek  myth  that  tells  how  Pro- 
metheus (Forethought)  and  Epimetheus  (After- 
thought) made  man  from  clay  and  then  how  Eros 
breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  spirit  of  life  and  Mi- 
nerva endowed  him  with  a  soul,  but  the  distance  has 

aeFrazer,  "Totemism  and  Exogamy,  Vol.  I,  p.  536. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  211 

been  spanned  by  comparative  mythology  with  the 
assistance  of  the  psychoanalytic  interpretations. 

The  partial  libido  trends  are  of  importance  in 
proportion  to  their  individual  capacities  to  make 
themselves  felt  in  the  final  result — character,  con- 
duct. Each  one,  like  each  organ  of  the  body,  like 
each  cell  even,  tends  to  dominate,  to  become  supreme, 
to  accumulate  all  power  to  the  exclusion  and  irre- 
spective of  all  others.  This  is  its  manifestation  of 
the  will  to  power.  Bergson  says  27  of  species, ' '  each 
species  of  life  behaves  as  if  the  general  movement 
of  life  stopped  at  it  instead  of  passing  through  it. 
It  thinks  only  for  itself — it  lives  only  for  itself. 
Hence  the  numberless  struggles  that  we  behold  in 
Nature."  His  statement  might  equally  well  apply 
to  any  organ,  to  any  cell,  in  fact  to  any  part  what- 
ever. He  says  the  same  thing  of  the  individual,28 
' '  each  individual  retains  only  a  certain  impetus  from 
the  universal  vital  impulsion  and  tends  to  use  this 
energy  in  its  own  interest.  In  this  consists  adapta- 
tion. The  species  and  the  individual  thus  think  only 
of  themselves — whence  rises  a  possible  conflict  with 
other  forms  of  life."  Here  is  a  conception  of  the 
conflict  between  individuals.  The  universality  of 
conflict  has  already  been  discussed  (Chapter  IV) 
and  we  are  already  familiar  with  many  of  its  mani- 
festations at  the  psychological  level.  This  univer- 

27  Cited  by  Hinkle,  B.  M. :     Jung's  Libido  Theory  and  the  Berg- 
sonian  Philosophy.     New  York  Med.  Jour.  May  30,  1914. 
as  Cited  by  Hinkle,  loc.  cit. 


212  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sality  of  conflict  is  important  to  keep  in  mind.  In 
this  connection  it  is  the  basis  of  the  conflicting  inter- 
ests of  the  partial  libido  strivings  the  outcome  of 
which  is  so  important  in  character  formation. 

Freud  29  has  summed  up  the  situation  by  laying  it 
down  that  the  permanent  distinguishing  traits  of  an 
individual  are  due  either  to  unchanged  continuations 
of  his  original  impulses,  sublimations  of  those  im- 
pulses, or  to  reactions  formed  against  them. 

The  continuation  of  original  impulses  are  seen  in 
such  character  traits  as  gluttony,  lust,  exhibitionism 
(pompousness),  curiosity,  domination  (Gottmensch). 
The  reaction  formed  against  these  original  impulses 
are  seen  in  such  traits  as,  the  whole  group  of  anti- 
pathetic emotions — horror  of  incest,  homosexuality, 
and  all  sexual  license — excessive  tenderness  (when 
it  hides  an  underlying  hate),  and  a  whole  host  of 
symptom  reactions  seen  in  the  realms  of  mental  dis- 
order— the  neuroses,  psychoneuroses,  and  psychoses. 
The  enormous  results  attained  by  the  race  by  sub- 
limation can  well  be  illustrated  by  citing  some  of 
the  chapter  headings  from  White's  "Warfare  of 
Science  with  Theology."30  For  example:  "From 
'Signs  and  Wonders'  to  Law  in  the  Heavens"; 
"From  'The  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air'  to 
Meteorology";  "From  Magic  to  Chemistry  and 
Physics";  "From  Miracles  to  Medicine";  "From 

29  Brill :     "Psychanalysis." 

so  White,  A.  D.:  "A  History  of  the  Warfare  of  Science  with 
Theology  in  Christendom."  2  Vols.  New  York,  D.  Appleton  & 
Co.,  1903. 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  213 

Fetich  to  Hygiene";  "From  'Demoniacal  Posses- 
sion' to  Insanity";  "From  Diabolism  to  Hysteria"; 
"From  Babel  to  Comparative  Philology";  "From 
the  Dead  Sea  Legends  to  Comparative  Mythology." 

The  path  along  which  mankind  has  come  has  been 
a  long  one  but  what  one  of  us  but  retains  some  insist- 
ent fragment  of  a  superstition,  perhaps  about  the 
unluckiness  of  thirteen  or  that  because  something 
has  happened  twice  it  will  happen  a  third  time,  which 
testifies  to  and  links  us  with  our  past.  Like  the 
dusty  traveller  we  have  come  a  long  way  on  the 
road,  and  we  too  are  dirty,  begrimed  and  travel 
stained,  the  marks  of  the  journey  are  upon  us. 

To  one  who  has  tried  to  fill  in  the  details  of  this 
journey,  of  which  this  book  is  only  the  briefest  out- 
line, each  individual,  everything  human  will  come  to 
have  a  new,  a  vivid  interest.  He  will  begin  to  see  in  a 
thousand  and  one  indescribable  details  the  evidences 
of  the  nature  of  each  individual  conflict  and  indica- 
tions of  the  happenings  along  the  particular  path 
which  he  has  come.  Every  little  quirk  of  expression, 
facial  mannerism,  restless,  nervous  and  apparently 
unmotived  movement,  every  slip  of  the  tongue,  and 
posture  of  the  body,  every  superstition  or  prejudice, 
every  interest  and  every  opinion  will  each  be  an 
indication  fraught  with  the  richest  material  for  illu- 
minating character.  As  Freud  very  well  puts  it: 
"He  who  has  eyes  to  see,  and  ears  to  hear,  becomes 
convinced  that  mortals  can  hide  no  secret.  Who- 
ever is  silent  with  the  lips,  tattles  with  the  finger- 
tips; betrayal  oozes  out  of  every  pore." 


214  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  history  of  culture  is  shot  through  with  evi- 
dences of  this  sort;  evidences  of  the  past  which  are 
retained  by  the  symbols  (see  Chapter  V).  Just  one 
example  to  illustrate  this  phase  of  the  problem. 

A  young  man  consulted  me  because  of  failure  in 
his  capacity  to  work,  general  nervousness  and  falling 
off  in  efficiency.  Neurasthenia  it  would  generally 
be  called.  He  told  me,  among  other  things,  that  some 
time  back,  when  he  had  been  feeling  miserable  in  the 
same  way,  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  trouble,  his 
physician  had  suggested  that  he  take  a  rest  by  tak- 
ing a  trip  somewhere.  He  had  chosen  the  Isthmus 
and  with  his  wife,  he  started.  No  sooner  had  he  left 
the  dock  when  he  was  seized  with  a  strong  impulse 
to  throw  himself  over-board  and  had  to  go  below  in 
his  state-room  and  lock  himself  in. 

In  the  course  of  our  general  conversation  and  in 
answer  to  my  more  or  less  stereotyped  questions 
about  any  previous  illness  he  might  have  had  he  mis- 
spoke, saying  that  he  had  been  given  quarter  grain 
doses  of  quinine.  Now,  of  course,  no  one  ever  gives 
quarter  grain  doses  of  quinine  but  that  dose  is  often 
given  of  calomel  and  calomel  is  wThat  he  had  intended 
to  say.  Here  then  was  an  opening,  a  weak  spot  in 
his  line  of  defence.  Quinine  must  have  unusual 
significance  to  break  through  from  its  repression  at 
such  an  opportunity.  My  questions  elicited  the  fol- 
lowing: that  he  had  been  on  the  Isthmus  upon  one 
previous  occasion;  that  he  was  there  over  night 
between  boats ;  that  during  that  evening  he  had  had 


PARTIAL  LIBIDO  STRIVINGS  215 

a  tender  passage  with  a  trained  nurse  stationed  at 
the  hospital;  my  recollection  does  not  serve  me  as  to 
whether  he  acquired  malaria  at  this  time  or  whether 
quinine  was  a  symbol  for  the  Isthmus  because  of 
the  well  known  presence  of  malaria  there ;  upon  the 
occasion  of  this  second  trip  to  the  Isthmus  the  first 
thing  he  did  when  he  landed  was  to  inquire  whether 
that  nurse  was  still  there. 

This  list  of  facts  serves  to  explain  why  he  chose 
the  Isthmus  as  his  objective  when  advised  to  take  a 
trip,  and  they  also  serve  to  explain  why  he  wanted 
to  jump  over-board.  He  was  yielding  to  an  impulse 
of  which  he  was  ashamed.  But  his  past  had  left  its 
mark,  the  record  had  been  written  and  was  there  to 
be  read  by  one  who  knew  the  language. 

Here,  in  this  field  of  partial  libido  strivings,  as 
elsewhere,  where  the  meanings  strike  deep  in  the 
human  soul,  the  poet  has  long  since  preceded  the 
scientist.  Hear  Petrarch  speak  from  his  solitude  at 
Vaucluse : 

"Here  at  Vaucluse  I  make  war  upon  my  senses, 
and  treat  them  as  my  enemies.  My  eyes,  which  have 
drawn  me  into  a  thousand  difficulties,  see  no  longer 
either  gold  or  precious  stones,  or  ivory,  or  purple; 
they  behold  nothing  save  the  water,  the  firmament, 
and  the  rocks.  The  only  female  who  comes  within 
their  sight  is  a  swarthy  old  woman,  dry  and  parched 
as  the  Lybian  deserts.  My  ears  are  no  longer 
courted  by  those  harmonious  instruments  and  voices 
which  have  so  often  transported  my  soul ;  they  hear 


216  CHAKACTER  FORMATION 

nothing  but  the  lowing  of  the  cattle,  the  bleating  of 
the  sheep,  the  warbling  of  the  birds,  and  the  murmurs 
of  the  river. 

"I  keep  silence  from  noon  till  night.  There  is  no 
one  to  converse  with ;  for  the  good  people,  employed 
in  spreading  their  nets,  or  tending  their  vines  and 
orchards,  are  no  great  adepts  at  conversation.  I 
often  content  myself  with  the  dry  bread  of  the  fisher- 
man, and  even  eat  it  with  pleasure.  Nay,  I  almost 
prefer  it  to  white  bread.  This  old  fisherman,  who 
is  as  hard  as  iron,  earnestly  remonstrates  against 
my  manner  of  life;  and  assures  me  that  I  can  not 
long  hold  out.  I  am,  on  the  contrary,  convinced  that 
it  is  easier  to  accustom  one's  self  to  a  plain  diet  than 
to  the  luxuries  of  a  feast.  I  am  fond  of  the  fish 
with  which  this  stream  abounds,  and  I  sometimes 
amuse  myself  with  spreading  the  nets.  As  to  my 
dress,  there  is  an  entire  change ;  you  would  take  me 
for  a  labourer,  or  a  shepherd." 


CHAPTER  X 
EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION 

There  have  been  a  number  of  efforts  to  classify 
men  according  to  their  temperament  or  their  way 
of  orienting  themselves  towards  certain  problems  or 
aspects  of  nature.  Among  the  most  notable  is  that 
of  Ostwald  l  who  divided  learned  men  and  geniuses 
into  two  great  classes  romanticists  and  classicists. 
The  romanticists  are  distinguished  by  their  rapid 
reaction,  their  extremely  prompt  production  and 
abundance  of  ideas  and  projects ;  they  are  admirable 
teachers,  brilliant,  and  with  a  contagious  enthusiasm, 
they  attract  numerous  pupils,  found  schools  and  ex- 
ercise a  great  personal  influence.  The  classicists, 
are  on  the  contrary,  of  slow  reaction,  they  produce 
with  much  effort,  are  poorly  fitted  for  teaching  and 
for  direct,  personal  action,  lack  enthusiasm,  are 
paralysed  by  their  own  critique,  live  removed  and 
shut  up  in  themselves,  have  scarcely  any  pupils  but 
give  their  life  to  the  achievement  of  a  perfect  work 
which  often  secures  for  them  a  posthumous  celebrity. 

Nietzsche's  well  known  division  of  men  into  two 
camps,  the  apollonian  and  the  dionysian,  is  very  well 

i  Ostwald,  W.:  "Grosse  Manner,"  Leipzig,  1910,  cited  by  Jung, 
C.  G. :  Contribution  a  l'6tude  des  types  psychologiques.  Arch,  de 
Psych.  Tome  XIII,  No.  52,  Dec.,  1913. 

217 


218  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

set  forth  in  a  few  words  by  Mencken.2  "Epic 
poetry,  sculpture,  painting  and  story-telling  are 
apollonic:  they  represent,  not  life  itself,  but  some 
man's  visualised  idea  of  life.  But  dancing,  great 
deeds  and,  in  some  cases,  music,  are  dionysian ;  they 
are  part  and  parcel  of  life  as  some  actual  human 
being,  or  collection  of  human  beings,  is  living  it. ' ' 

William  James  has  seen  these  distinctions  and 
endeavoured  to  define  them  according  to  his  lights/* 
He  sees  the  same  tendency  to  split  men  up  into  two 
mutually  opposed  groups  in  whatever  field  of  human 
endeavour  we  look.  In  manners  there  are  the  for- 
malists and  the  free-and-easy;  in  government,  the 
authoritarians  and  the  anarchists;  in  literature, 
purists  or  academicals  and  realists;  in  art,  classics 
and  romantics;  and  in  philosophy,  rationalists  and 
empiricists.  In  defining  this  last  pair  of  terms  he 
says,  "  'empiricist'  meaning  your  lover  of  facts  in 
all  their  crude  variety,  'rationalist'  meaning  your 
devotee  to  abstract  and  eternal  principles. ' '  James 
himself  prefers  to  use  the  terms  "tender-minded" 
and  * '  tough-minded. ' '  The  qualities  which  the  mem- 
bers of  these  two  groups  show  are,  according  to 
him: 

The  tender-minded  are  rationalistic  (going  by 
'"principles"),  intellectualistic,  idealistic,  optimis- 
tic, religious,  free-willist,  monistic,  dogmatical. 

The    tough-minded    are    empiricists    (going    by 

2  Mencken,  H.  L.:  "The  Philosophy  of  Friedrich  Nietzsche." 
Boston,  1908. 

s  James,  W.:     "Pragmatism,"  New  York,  1912. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       219 

" facts"),  sensationalistic,  materialistic,  pessimistic, 
irreligious,  fatalistic,  pluralistic,  sceptical. 

With  respect  to  this  whole  problem  it  would  seem 
that  there  should  be  some  broader  general  principle 
under  which  this  body  of  facts  could  be  grouped. 
This  principle  I  believe  exists  in  the  terms  of  libido. 
In  other  words  the  broadest  basis  upon  which  men 
can  be  divided  into  two  camps  rests  upon  the  answer 
to  this  question,  Where  is  the  libido  going?  Without? 
or  Within?  Does  the  individual  find  his  main  inter- 
ests outside  himself?  Does  he  attach  his  libido  to 
objects  in  the  outside  world?  or  does  he  find  his  main 
interests  within?  in  contemplating  the  world  only 
as  he  sees  it  reflected  within  himself?  Is  he  of  the 
extroverted  or  introverted  type  ? 

Jung  defines  these  two  types  very  simply.4  He 
says :  '  *  The  introverted  type  is  characterised  by  the 
fact  that  he  applies  his  horme5  chiefly  to  himself, 
i.e.,  he  finds  the  unconditioned  values  within  himself, 
but  the  extroverted  type  applies  his  horme  to  the 
external  world,  to  the  object,  the  non-ego,  i.e.,  he 
finds  the  unconditioned  value  outside  himself.  The 
introverted  considers  everything  under  the  aspect  of 
the  value  of  his  own  ego;  the  extroverted  depends 
upon  the  value  of  his  object." 

From  this  point  of  view  we  see  that  the  romanti- 
cists of  Ostwald  are  extroverted,  his  classicists  intro- 
verted :  the  dionysians  of  Nietzsche  are  extroverted, 

*  Jung,  C.  G.:  Psychological  Understanding.  Jour.  Abnormal 
Psych.,  Feb.-March,  1915. 

c  The  term  Jung  suggests  as  a  substitute  for  libido. 


220  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

his  apollonians,  introverted;  the  tough-minded  of 
James  are  extroverted,  the  tender-minded,  intro- 
verted. 

EXTEO  VERSION 

To  the  extent  that  our  interests  flow  outward  and 
attach  themselves  to  objects  and  events  in  the  outer 
world  of  reality  we  are  extroverted.  In  fact  things 
in  the  outer  world  do  not  exist  for  me  unless  I  pro- 
ject, so  to  speak,  my  libido,  my  interest  upon  them. 
The  chair  that  is  opposite  me  as  I  write  did  not  exist 
for  me  a  few  moments  ago  and  only  began  to  exist 
as  I  was  looking  about  for  an  example  of  this  mechan- 
ism and  then  its  existence  was  only  a  very  limited 
one.  I  thought  of  the  chair  solely  as  a  useful  object 
for  this  specific  illustration,  beyond  that  the  chair 
had  no  meaning  for  me  at  that  time,  any  other  qual- 
ities that  I  might  think  of  at  some  other  time  as 
belonging  to  it,  or  any  other  qualities  that  some  one 
else  might  think  of  as  belonging  to  it  had  no  existence 
for  me.  For  the  time  being  it  stood  only  as  a  good 
illustration  of  what  I  was  writing  about — it  had  no 
other  meaning. 

To  be  a  little  simpler.  A  moment's  thought  will 
show  how  a  chair  may  mean  different  things  to  dif- 
ferent people  or  different  things  at  different  times 
to  the  same  person.  To  a  tired  person  a  chair  is 
something  to  sit  in :  to  a  salesman  in  a  furniture  store 
it  is  something  to  sell :  to  a  carpenter  it  represents 
problems  of  construction :  to  a  mischievous  boy  hunt- 
ing material  for  a  bon-fire  it  may  be  something  to 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION      221 

burn;  and  to  the  same  person  at  different  times  it 
may  have  first  one  and  then  another  of  these  mean- 
ings. The  meaning  in  each  instance  depends  upon 
what  we  contemplate  doing  with  reference  to  the 
chair,  how  we  are  going  to  use  it,  not  what  it  is  in 
itself.  Bergson6  puts  it  in  his  inimitable  way  by 
saying,  "The  more  physics  advances,  the  more  it 
effaces  the  individuality  of  bodies  and  even  of  the 
particles  into  which  the  scientific  imagination  began 
by  decomposing  them :  bodies  and  corpuscles  tend  to 
dissolve  into  a  universal  interaction.  Our  percep- 
tions give  us  the  plan  of  our  eventual  action  on 
things  much  more  than  that  of  things  themselves. 
The  outlines  we  find  in  objects  simply  mark  what 
we  can  attain  and  modify  in  them.  The  lines  we  see 
traced  through  matter  are  just  the  paths  on  which 
we  are  called  to  move.  Outlines  and  paths  have 
declared  themselves  in  the  measure  and  proportion 
that  consciousness  has  prepared  for  action  on  unor- 
ganised matter — that  is  to  say,  in  the  measure  and 
proportion  that  intelligence  has  been  formed.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  animals  built  on  a  different  plan — 
a  mollusk  or  an  insect,  for  instance — cut  matter  up 
along  the  same  articulations.  It  is  not  indeed  neces- 
sary that  they  should  separate  it  into  bodies  at  all." 
We  therefore  may  be  said  to  get  from  an  object 
only  so  much  as  we  give  to  it.  The  chair  again  plays 
no  particular  part  in  our  interest  if  we  do  not  give 
our  interest  to  the  chair,  project  our  interest  upon 
it,  exteriorise  ourselves  to  that  extent,  that  is  to  the 

«  "Creative  Evolution." 


222  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

extent  that  the  chair  as  a  symbol  can  represent  us. 
The  chair  is  a  symbol  for  that  portion  of  ourselves 
which  is  represented  by  our  interest  in  it.  To  be 
still  more  explicit. 

If  I  simply  look  at  the  chair  and  see  something  to 
sit  in  then  the  chair  represents  only  that  part  of  my 
psyche  that  is  interested  in  sitting.  If  now  I  begin 
to  examine  how  the  chair  is  made,  to  examine  the 
mortised  joints,  the  turned  rungs,  then  the  chair 
takes  on  all  this  added  meaning.  And  finally  if  I 
note  its  style,  recognise  it  as  belonging  to  a  certain 
French  period  my  interest  is  immensely  broader 
while  if  this  particular  period  is  correlated  with  cer- 
tain artistic  standards  represented  by  the  furniture 
and  that  again  with  certain  social  and  political  con- 
ditions it  can  easily  be  seen  how,  from  the  starting 
point  of  the  chair,  I  may  be  led  ultimately  to  a  con- 
sideration of  anything  within  the  field  of  human 
endeavour.  The  chair  comes  therefore  to  mean  more 
and  more  as  my  interest  in  it  grows,  it  returns  to  me 
the  interest  I  took  in  it  in  that  what  it  gives  is  after 
all  only  what  I  originally  projected  upon  it  or  used 
it  to  symbolise.  This  is  the  viewpoint  of  the  human- 
istic movement  in  philosophy — so-called  from  the 
dictum  of  Protagoras  that  "man  is  the  measure  of 
all  things.'*  In  the  Papyri  of  Philonous,  already 
quoted  from,  Protagoras  is  made  to  say,  "And  so  it 
seems  to  us  that  we  come  into  a  world  already  made 
and  incapable  of  change.  But  this  is  not  the  truth. 
We  'find'  a  world  made  for  us,  because  we  are  the 
heirs  of  bygone  ages,  profiting  by  their  work,  and  it 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       223 

may  be  suffering  for  their  folly.  But  we  can  in  part 
remake  it,  and  reform  a  world  that  has  slowly  formed 
itself.  But  of  all  this  how  could  we  get  an  inkling 
if  we  had  not  begun  by  perceiving  that  of  all  things, 
Man,  each  man,  is  the  measure?" 

This  is  the  principle  of  the  extroversion  of  the 
libido.  We  project  ourselves  into  the  world  and  then 
rediscover  ourselves  in  these  projected  symbols. 

For  example:  in  the  effort  to  secure  power  by 
continuing  to  live,  by  conquering  old  age  and  disease, 
in  this  effort  to  gain  personal  immortality  the  physi- 
cian becomes  for  the  patient  the  incarnation  of  this 
aspect  of  himself.  The  physician  is  that  projected 
portion  of  himself  with  which  he  endeavours  to  con- 
quer this  specific  type  of  destructive  agency,  he  is 
the  symbol  of  the  patient's  effort  to  transcend  the 
limitations  of  life.7  Faith  in  the  physician  is  then 
in  this  sense  faith  in  himself  but  back  of  that,  faith 
in  his  father,  who  was,  in  the  history  of  his  develop- 
ment, the  original  source  of  all  authority. 

This  is  not  only  an  example  of  the  extroversion  of 
the  libido  but  it  is  an  illustration  of  how  the  symbol 
is  utilised  to  bring  to  bear  the  very  strongest  con- 
structive forces,  how  it  is  used  to  give  the  greatest 
possible  sanction  to  all  efforts  aimed  at  the  largest 
personal  development  of  power  and  efficiency. 
Again  we  see  the  enormous  energic  values  of  the 
symbol. 

The  discussion  of  this  aspect  of  libido  values  might 

7  See  Jelliffe,  S.  E.:  The  Technique  of  Psychoanalysis.  The 
Psychoanalytic  Review,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  1,  Jan.,  1916. 


224  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

be  made  as  broad  as  the  whole  range  of  human  insti- 
tutions. The  enormous  energic  value  of  the  symbol 
and  the  pragmatic  value  of  this  type  of  mechanism 
is  perhaps  best  seen  in  the  example  given  and  in  its 
complement — religion. 

The  Holy  Family  is  symbolic  of  the  family  group, 
as  the  infant  first  learned  to  know  it,  and  in  which 
he  found  complete  satisfaction  for  his  love  and  com- 
plete security,  his  father  the  greatest  and  most 
powerful  of  men,  his  mother  the  sweetest  and  most 
beautiful  of  women. 

From  primitive  man  up  through  the  ages  religion 
has  played  its  mighty  part  in  urging  man  along  the 
path  of  progress,  sometimes  by  love,  sometimes  by 
the  cruelest  scourings,  but  always  on,  unremittingly, 
irresistibly  on.  For  the  savage,  the  gods  are  men, 
chiefs  perhaps,  but  still  men.  From  this  simplest 
conception  of  a  god  progress  begins  by,  first  remov- 
ing the  god  further  and  further  in  both  time  and 
space.  He  is  a  former  chief  about  whom  wonderful 
tales  are  told  and  he  lives  "over  there,"  across  the 
river  or  on  an  island  in  the  sea.  The  span  of  time 
and  space  become  ever  greater,  the  god's  origin  re- 
cedes into  an  ever  more  remote  past  and  the  Heaven 
in  which  complete  love  and  security  will  be  the 
reward  for  a  good  life,  in  which  the  lost  omnipotence 
will  be  regained,  is  put  off  into  an  ever  receding 
future. 

And  finally  the  qualities  of  the  gods  themselves 
become  changed  in  like  manner.  From  their  original 
concrete  human  character  they  become  more  and 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       225 

more  ideal,  they  partake  more  and  more  of  the  qual- 
ities of  the  unconscious  wish  that  would  clothe  the 
image  of  God  in  the  garments  of  the  father  as  he 
once  seemed. 

As  the  God  recedes  in  time  and  space  and  as  his 
qualities  become  less  concretely  human  and  more 
ideal  they  too  become  more  abstract  until  the  human 
element  seems  quite  to  have  vanished  as  for  example 
in  Matthew  Arnold's  expression8  of  faith  in  "a 
power  not  ourselves  that  makes  for  righteousness" 
which  has  been  referred  to  as  the  ''irreducible  mini- 
mum" of  religion. 

And  so  the  great  God-father  reaches  out  and  takes 
the  hand  of  weak,  helpless  man  in  his  infancy  and 
supports  him  as  he  learns  to  walk,  keeping  always 
in  front  of  him  and  encouraging  him  to  keep  trying 
and  as  from  tottering  he  is  able  to  stand  and  then 
to  take  a  step  and  then  another  the  hand  is  gradually 
withdrawn,  though  at  first  always  near,  and  always 
held  out  to  grasp  in  need  until  finally  man  not  only 
stands,  and  walks,  but  need  no  longer  watch  each 
step  but  with  shoulders  thrown  back  and  head  erect 
he  looks  up  to  his  Ideal  which  while  he  can  now  only 
see  it  in  the  dim  distance  is  bright  and  clear  and 
unmistakable. 

I  have  spoken  all  along  of  extroversion  as  the  pro- 
jection outward  of  the  libido.  I  have  used  the  term 
projection  because  I  thought  it  preferable  in  that 
discussion.  A  note  of  warning  is  needed  however, 

s  Cited  by  Stiles,  P.  G. :  "The  Nervous  System  and  Its  Conserva- 
tion." W.  B.  Saunders  Co.,  Phila.,  1914. 


226 

because  projection  has  a  technical  meaning  in  psy- 
choanalytic usage  and  applies  to  the  mechanism 
which  is  the  ambivalent  opposite  of  extroversion  as 
I  have  just  described  it.  I  would  have  been  techni- 
cally more  correct  to  have  used  the  word  transfer,  a 
translation  of  the  German  technical  term  Ueber- 
tragung,  originally  used  to  describe  this  phenom- 
enon. 

And  now  to  the  mechanism  of  projection  as  that 
word  is  technically  used.  In  the  projection  mechan- 
ism the  libido,  the  love,  the  interest  goes  out  to  the 
object  but  the  result  is  not  satisfaction  of  the  crav- 
ing which  the  going  out  represented.  The  love  does 
not  come  back,  it  is  frustrated,  it  finds  itself  up 
against  a  stone  wall,  there  is  no  response  in  kind. 
This  is  the  mechanism  in  paranoia  and  paranoid 
types  of  reaction  for  many  people  react  in  this  way 
about  whom  there  is  no  suspicion  of  mental  disease. 
It  is  the  type  of  reaction  that  is  not  infrequently 
seen  in  a  subordinate  towards  his  superior.  The 
superior  represents  the  father  image  from  which 
guidance  and  love  is  desired.  Inasmuch,  however, 
as  this  desire  for  love  and  guidance  can  never  be 
satisfied  adequately  because  it  is  based  upon  infantile 
demands  the  craving  continues.  That  is,  the  love  is 
given  to  the  object  and  suffering  is  the  result  because 
it  is  not  reciprocated  in  kind.  This  suffering  is  not 
correctly  interpreted  as  to  its  source  but  felt  as  if 
coming  from  the  beloved  person  and  so  pain  is  re- 
turned for  love.  This  is  the  feeling  basis  for  the 
ideas  of  persecution  which  such  individuals  have. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       227 

They  feel  that  they  are  being  injured,  plotted  against, 
are  the  objects  of  all  sorts  of  subtle  intrigues  and 
the  like.  Such  a  feeling  is  often  at  the  basis  of  a 
strongly  developed  tendency  to  gossip,  to  listen  to 
what  so-and-so  has  said  and  perhaps  to  read  some 
sinister  reference  into  the  remarks  and  then  pass 
them  on  in  return  for  still  more  material  to  either 
gloat  over  or  tremble  about  in  this  all  too  close  to  a 
pathological  world.9 

This  tendency  to  find  outside  ourselves  the  expla- 
nations and  the  excuses  for  our  own  shortcomings  is 
most  admirably  expressed  by  Shakespeare.  In  King 
Lear  he  makes  Edmund,  the  bastard  son  of  Gloster, 
say: 

Edm.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world ! 
that,  when  we  are  sick  in  fortune  (often  the  surfeit 
of  our  own  behaviour),  we  make  guilty  of  our  dis- 
asters the  sun,  the  moon,  and  stars:  as  if  we  were 
villains  on  necessity ;  fools  by  heavenly  compulsion ; 
knaves,  thieves,  and  treachers  by  spherical  predom- 
inance; drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers,  by  an  en- 
forced obedience  of  planetary  influence ;  and  all  that 
we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on.  An  admir- 

o  The  hypothesis,  first  advanced  by  Freud,  that  the  projection 
mechanism  produces  the  result  of  feeling  oneself  persecuted  because 
the  individual  is  at  the  homosexual  stage  of  libido  development  will 
not  be  discussed  here.  The  subject  is  more  appropriate  for  a  work 
on  psychopathology.  The  comment  is  irresistible,  however,  that  if 
this  is  true,  and  many  believe  it  is,  including  myself,  that  the 
mechanism  is  for  the  purpose  of  driving  the  individual  away  from 
sources  of  homosexual  satisfaction,  which  can  never  be  construc- 
tively advantageous  to  the  race,  and  encouraging  him  on  the  path 
of  progress. 


228  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

able  evasion  of  whoremaster  man,  to  lay  his  goatish 
disposition  on  the  charge  of  a  star !  My  father  com- 
pounded with  my  mother  under  the  dragon's  tail; 
and  my  nativity  was  under  ursa  major:  so  that  it 
follows,  I  am  rough  and  lecherous. — I  should  have 
been  that  I  am,  had  the  maidenliest  star  in  the  firma- 
ment twinkled  on  my  bastardising. 

INTEOVEKSION" 

Introversion  is  the  opposite  of  extroversion.  In- 
stead of  transferring  the  libido  to  an  object  without 
the  libido  is  turned  within.  We  can  best  come  to  an 
understanding  of  what  is  meant  by  this,  and  the 
meaning  of  the  results  that  follow  if  we  will  revert 
to  the  process  already  briefly  referred  to  (Chapter 
VIII)  of  the  building  up  of  the  concept  of  "self,"  of 
the  ego-consciousness. 

We  have  seen  that  the  distinction  between  the 
"self"  and  the  "not-self"  was  slow  of  growth.  In 
fact  it  is  never  fully  acquired.  Preyer  's  10  boy  as 
late  as  nineteen  months  of  age  when  told  to  "Give 
the  shoe"  picked  it  from  the  floor  and  handed  it  to 
him,  but  when  told  to  * i  Give  the  foot ' '  tried  to  pick 
that  up  with  both  hands  and  hand  it  to  him  in  the 
same  way  that  he  had  the  shoe.  Thus  he  failed  at 
this  late  date  to  appreciate  what  belonged  to  him  and 
what  did  not.  He  attempted  to  hand  his  foot  to  his 

10  Preyer,  W.:  "The  Mind  of  the  Child,"  Chap.  XIX.  The  De- 
velopment of  the  Feeling  of  Self,  the  "I"-Feeling.  New  York,  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  1898. 


EXTKOVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       229 

father  as  he  had  his  shoe ;  he  treated  it  in  the  same 
way,  as  if  it  were  not  a  part  of  himself. 

Professor  Hall J1  mentions  a  baby  as  staring 
steadily  at  its  hand  and  the  trying  to  grasp  the  hand 
looked  at  with  the  same  hand.  Miss  Shinn's  12  niece 
"tried  to  flourish  her  arm  and  go  on  sucking  her 
thumb  at  the  same  time,  and  could  not  imagine  what 
had  suddenly  snatched  the  cherished  thumb  away." 

At  the  risk  of  repeating  I  will  revert  to  the  illustra- 
tion already  used,  Chapter  VIII,  of  the  creeping  in- 
fant who  picks  up  everything  and  carries  it  at  once  to 
its  mouth.  The  mouth  is  a  primitive  organ  of  touch 
of  great  value.  The  type  of  experience  which  results 
from  putting  some  indifferent  object  in  its  mouth  is 
quite  different  from  that  which  results  from  putting 
a  part  of  its  own  body  in  its  mouth.  In  the  first  in- 
stance there  is  a  resulting  sensation  in  the  mouth 
only,  in  the  second  instance  there  is  an  additional 
sensation,  a  sensation  in  that  portion  of  the  body 
which  has  been  so  treated. 

It  is  by  such  experiments  which  focus  two  or  more 
sensory  qualities  in  one  experience  that  the  distinc- 
tion between  self  and  environment  is  gradually  built 
up,  that  the  concept  of  self  is  slowly  integrated.  In 
the  above  cited  experience  two  qualities  of  touch  sen- 
sation are  integrated,  in  the  same  way  the  sight  of 
the  moving  hand  is  integrated  with  the  joint  and 

11  Hall,  G.  S. :     Some  Aspects  of  the  Early  Sense  of  Self.     Am. 
Jour.  Psych.,  Vol.  IX,  No.  3. 

12  Shinn,  M.  W. :     "The  Biography  of  a  Baby."     Boston  and  New 
York,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1900. 


230  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

muscle  sensations  which  bring  about  the  motion,  the 
sensation  of  touch  with  the  motor  sensations  which 
have  moved  the  hand  to  the  touched  object,  the  sen- 
sations of  sound  and  of  sight,  touch  and  taste,  motor 
sensations,  and  so  on  indefinitely  through  an  increas- 
ingly complex  series  of  integrations  the  ego-concept 
is  laboriously  constructed. 

Despite  the  great  number  and  varied  character  of 
the  experiences  that  make  for  the  construction  of  the 
ego-concept  there  always  remain  serious  gaps,  de- 
fects in  the  structure.  There  are  certain  portions  of 
our  bodies  that  are  never  adequately  included  in  our 
conscious  concept  of  ourselves,  such  portions,  for 
example,  as  the  back  of  the  head,  and  the  region  be- 
tween the  shoulder  blades.  Other  portions  fail  to 
get  into  the  scheme  less  obviously. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  small  boy  who  carefully 
polishes  the  front  part  of  his  shoes  and  leaves  the 
heels  untouched  and  who  likewise  absolutely  neglects 
the  back  of  his  head  when  brushing  his  hair.  One 
should  read  Miss  Shinn's  description  of  her  niece, 
who,  in  bending  over  backwards  accidentally  hit  the 
back  of  her  head  on  the  floor  and  by  so  doing  really 
discovered,  for  the  first  time,  this  region. 

The  indeterminateness  of  the  relation,  individual- 
environment,  is  testified  to  by  common  customs ;  ways 
of  feeling  and  expressions.  A  gift  from  a  friend 
long  since  dead  is  cherished  because  it  is  felt  some- 
how to  contain  or  to  have  been  a  part  of  the  dead 
person  in  life,  while  we  go  away  from  a  strange  city 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       231 

carrying  with  us  an  impression  of  it  upon  our  mem- 
ory. 

Among  primitive  peoples  this  confusion  is  very 
much  in  evidence.  Instances  have  already  been  cited 
which  illustrate  this  point.  I  will  add  only  a  few 
briefly. 

Among  the  Betsileo  of  Madagascar 13  the  nobles 
of  the  tribe  are  attended  by  men  called  ramanga 
whose  function  it  is  to  eat  all  the  nail-parings  and 
lick  up  all  the  spilt  blood  of  their  noble  masters  so 
that  sorcerers  may  not  get  possession  of  them  and 
so,  on  the  principles  of  contagious  magic,  work  harm 
to  them.  Among  the  Arabs  of  Moab  14  a  childless 
woman  will  borrow  the  robe  of  a  woman  who  has 
borne  many  children  that  she  may  acquire  the  fruit- 
fulness  of  its  owner.  The  primitive  man  also  re- 
gards his  name  as  a  part  of  himself  which  he  pro- 
tects with  elaborate  care  from  becoming  known  to 
his  enemies.15  Cursing  an  enemy  by  name  becomes, 
therefore,  a  potent  means  of  injury,  while  to  mention 
one's  own  name  freely  is  a  dangerous  practice  for 
each  time  one 's  name  passes  the  lips,  the  owner  parts 
with  a  vital  bit  of  himself. 

Primitive  man  may  thus  be  said  to  be  relatively  un- 
differentiated,  in  his  own  mind  at  least,  from  his  en- 
is  Frazer,  J.  G.:     "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)   Pt.  II.    Taboo 
and  the  Perils  of  the  Soul,  Chap.  V,  Tabooed  Things. 

i*  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Pt.  I.  The 
Magic  Art  and  the  Evolution  of  Kings,  Vol.  I,  Chap.  III. 

is  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Pt.  II.  Taboo 
and  the  Perils  of  the  Soul,  Chap.  VI,  Tabooed  words. 


232  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

vironment.  His  personality  is  diffuse,  spread  out  all 
over  the  world  of  things,  has  not  yet  been  integrated 
and  at  all  clearly  defined. 

One  of  the  very  best  illustrations  16  of  the  intimate 
association  and  the  lack  of  differentiation  between 
man  at  the  primitive  cultural  levels  and  the  forces 
of  nature  is  seen  in  the  way  in  which  they  treat  their 
divine  kings.  The  ruler  of  the  tribe,  a  godman,  is 
at  the  very  centre  of  the  forces  of  the  universe  and 
anything  that  he  does  may  influence  the  world  for 
good  or  for  bad  as  the  case  may  be.  He  is  there- 
fore hedged  in  by  an  enormously  complex  system  of 
taboos  which  control  his  every  act.  Now  it  is  obvi- 
ous if  he  is  in  such  close  association  with  nature,  and 
that  the  whole  welfare  of  the  tribe  depends  in  this 
intimate  way  upon  him,  that  he  must  not  be  per- 
mitted to  get  sick  or  grow  old  and  feeble,  for  if  he 
gets  sick  and  grows  old  and  feeble  then  the  forces  of 
nature  will  fail,  the  tribe  will  be  in  danger  of  epi- 
demics, droughts,  poor  crops,  and  the  like,  and  so 
to  prevent  such  dire  catastrophe  the  divine  king  is 
killed  in  the  prime  of  life  and  in  the  fulness  of  his 
health  that  his  spirit  may  be  passed  on  unimpaired 
in  strength  to  his  successor. 

The  introverted  person  is  one  who,  instead  of 
transferring  his  libido  to  external  objects,  receives,  so 
to  speak,  these  objects,  or  their  effects,  within  him- 
self and  so  he  views  the  world  from  within,  he  con- 
siders the  world  according  to  the  effect  it  has  upon 

leFrazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Pt.  III.  The 
Dying  God,  Chap.  II.  The  Killing  of  the  Divine  King. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION      233 

him.  Taking  our  viewpoint  from  the  external  world, 
this  is  brought  about  by  the  process  of  what  is  called 
intr ejection  or  an  entering  into  the  individual  of  in- 
fluences from  without. 

This  feeling  of  influence  from  without,  as  already 
suggested  (Chapter  VIII)  is  extremely  common  in 
the  most  typical  of  introversion  psychoses,  dementia 
praecox.  Thus  one  patient  hears  voices  talk  to  him 
from  all  sorts  of  sources.  He  hears  the  clock  talk- 
ing; he  can  hear  the  creaking  wagon  wheel,  as  it  goes 
by,  talking;  and  even  people's  foot-steps  and  the 
watch  speak  to  him.  He  hears  the  human  voice  talk- 
ing through  the  birds,  leaves  of  the  trees,  flowers  and 
various  inanimate  objects.  He  is  disturbed  by  vi- 
sions and  all  sorts  of  magical  things— electricity, 
wireless  telegraphy,  thought  reading,  and  bad  in- 
fluences from  certain  people  play  about  him.  His 
psychosis  has  plunged  him  to  a  lower  cultural  level, 
his  reactions  remind  us  of  the  cultural  stage  of  ani- 
mism. 

All  of  these  phenomena  may  be  looked  at  as  evi- 
dences of  a  lessened  capacity  for  integration  of  the 
personality,  of  separating  the  self  from  the  not- 
self.  The  environment  has  become  strangely  blended 
with  these  patients'  personality  by  the  process  of  in- 
trojection,  and  as  the  environment  thus  introjects  it- 
self into  the  personality  the  personality  correspond- 
ingly swells  and  loses  its  definiteness.  One  patient 
sees  a  certain  mystic  significance  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  stars  about  the  moon;  another  has  lost  the 
feeling  of  personal  identity  with  respect  to  his  own 


234  CHAKACTER  FORMATION 

body  for  when  asked  when  he  entered  the  army  said, 
"It  was  centuries  and  centuries  ago ;  not  I  but  a  body 
just  like  my  remembrance  around  1903,"  while  an- 
other patient  believes  his  body  is  changing  in  size. 

The  sense  of  mystery  is  frequently  expressed. 
One  patient  for  a  long  time  has  been  seeing  peculiar 
objects  the  nature  of  which  were  not  clear  to  him  but 
of  the  auditory  hallucinations  he  said  they  were  not 
real  voices  but  simply  things  which  seemed  to  come 
into  his  mind,  also  he  said  he  heard  voices  talking 
inside  his  head  but  thought  that  these  were  the  ex- 
pressions of  his  own  mind.  He  still  retained  a  grasp 
upon  reality,  although  it  is  evident  that  his  hold 
had  been  seriously  loosened  for  his  thoughts  had  be- 
come audible.  This  grasp  was  quite  completely  lost 
by  the  patient  who  believed  that  mental  telepathy  was 
11  working  upon  him"  and  that  he  was  regarded  as  a 
spy.  He  heard  many  voices  saying  all  conceivable 
things  against  him,  so  that  he  grew  desperate  and 
attempted  suicide.  Asked  to  describe  the  auditory 
hallucinations,  he  says  he  cannot  put  his  impression 
of  them  into  words,  that  he  did  not  hear  distinct 
voices,  but  "foreign  thoughts  came  slowly  creeping 
into  his  brain,  thoughts  not  his  own,  emanating  from 
the  mind  of  .some  one  at  a  distance."  Upon  one 
occasion  he  thought  that  a  dream  was  projected  upon 
him  by  a  supervisor  through  "thought  transmis- 
sion. ' ' 

The  vagueness  with  which  a  person  may  conceive 
of  himself  is  shown  by  the  patients  who  have  no 
clear  appreciation  of  who  they  are,  who  parade  un- 


EXTKOVEESION  AND  INTROVERSION      235 

der  some  one  else's  name,  claim  to  be  some  noted 
person,  even  a  criminal.  This  type  of  reaction  be- 
comes much  more  archaic  when  the  identification  is 
with  historic  personages.  The  extreme  limit  of 
this  is  found  in  a  patient  who  practically  identifies 
himself  with  the  universe.  Among  other  things  he 
says  he  was  Adam's  father;  that  he  had  lived  in  his 
present  bodily  form  35  years,  but  that  he  has  lived 
in  other  bodies  30  millions  of  years,  not  continually 
but  periodically ;  that  he  has  used  6,000,000  different 
bodies.  He  says  that  he  was  Moses,  that  also  he  was 
the  father  of  Moses,  and  that  he  performed  the  ten 
miracles  that  liberated  the  people  of  Egypt.  If  he 
extended  his  left  arm  into  the  universe  it  would  go 
inside  heaven,  also  his  left  brain  lobe.  Paradise  cor- 
responds with  the  right  arm  and  the  right  brain  lobe. 
The  headquarters  of  these  two  are  in  the  forearms 
and  in  the  brain  "dot."  The  brain  "dot"  is  some- 
thing like  the  central  office  of  a  building,  or  it  can 
be  compared  to  a  hand  holding  a  bunch  of  strings  to 
balloons  which  float  above.  Hell  and  Purgatory 
have  corresponding  positions  in  the  two  lower  limbs. 
Tartarus  and  Gehenna  correspond  to  the  feet. 
Hades  and  Oblivion  correspond  to  the  knees.  He 
says  he  is  both  male  and  female  with  one  mind  and 
body  controlling  both.  He  has  to  be  one  to  be  the 
father  and  creator  of  the  various  races  and  elements 
of  the  human  organisation.  The  stars  in  themselves 
are  pieces  of  his  body  which  have  been  torn  apart 
by  torture  and  persecution  in  various  ages  of  past 
history  in  the  wars  between  the  righteous  and  the  un- 


236  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

righteous.  These  stars  will  come  down  on  earth  in 
human  form  to  bear  witness  for  him  towards  the 
end  of  the  millennium.  And  much  more  of  the  same 
sort  wherein,  among  other  things,  he  compares  the 
structure  of  the  solar  system  to  the  structure  of  the 
human  body,  and  identifies  himself  with  portions  of 
it.  It  took  him  300  millions  of  years  to  perfect  the 
first  fully  developed  human  form. 

Again  we  are  reminded  of  the  way  in  which  primi- 
tive man  regarded  his  tribal  king.  The  king  was  the 
individual  in  whom  was  concentrated  all  the  great 
creative  energy  of  their  restricted  universe.  He  was 
looked  to  to  see  that  the  rain  fell  and  watered  the 
crops,  that  the  cattle  and  the  women  were  fruitful, 
that  the  tribe  was  successful  in  war.  It  was  because 
he  was  a  carrier  of  enormous  stores  of  energy  that 
he  must  be  treated,  as  Frazer  puts  it,17  like  a  Leyden 
jar.  His  foot  must  not  touch  the  ground  and  the 
sun  must  not  shine  upon  him  or  he  would  lose  his 
power.  Not  only  this  but  such  a  discharge  of  energy 
would  be  dangerous  to  those  about. 

Introversion,  at  least  when  pathological,  tends  to 
bring  about  a  retracing  of  the  stages  along  which 
the  psyche  has  come.  Of  course  it  is  not  intended  to 
convey  the  idea  that  introversion  brings  about  con- 
ditions that  exactly  reproduce  stages  in  ontogenetic 
or  phylogenetic  development.  The  application  of  the 
law  of  recapitulation  to  the  sphere  of  the  psyche  is 
subject  to  the  same  sort  of  qualifications  as  it  is  in 

"Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd  ed.)  Pt.  VII.  Balder 
the  Beautiful,  Vol.  I,  Chap.  I.  Between  Heaven  and  Earth. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION      237 

its  application  to  the  body.  The  law  of  recapitula- 
tion holds  but  with  many  variations  in  the  way  of 
abridgments  and  short  cuts  which  distort  the  out- 
ward appearances  at  times  very  greatly.  The  view- 
point, it  is  believed,  is  a  valuable  one,  but  in  its  ap- 
plication the  process  of  thinking  should  be  kept  in 
mind  rather  than  the  content  of  thought.  The  view 
maintained  here  is  that  in  the  introversion  types  of 
psychoses  the  patient  reverts  to  ways  of  thinking 
that  belong  to  earlier  stages  of  development. 

Introversion  brings  about  a  return  to  a  less  clearly 
denned  individuality  and  a  greater  range  of  identifi- 
cation with  the  environment.  Withdrawal  from 
reality  is  a  withdrawal  from  contact  at  higher  levels 
but  a  return  to  a  phylogenetically  older  and  more 
diffuse  form  of  contact. 

From  the  argument  thus  far  it  must  not  be  con- 
cluded that  extroversion  or  introversion,  more  par- 
ticularly the  latter,  is  always  an  undesirable  or  ab- 
normal character.  If  we  will  turn  again  to  the  list 
of  characteristics  given  by  Professor  James  of  the 
tough-minded  and  tender-minded  types  we  will 
appreciate  that  none  of  them  are  wholly  undesirable. 
On  the  contrary  they  are  all  desirable  if  properly 
controlled  and  made  to  subserve  useful  ends.  It  is 
only  when  they  fail  in  this  that  they  pass  the  bounds 
of  normality  or  desirability. 

When  we  see  extroversion  in  a  severe  hysteria  or 
a  maniacal  excitement  or  introversion  manifested 
in  a  psychoneurosis  or  a  dementia  prsecox  there  is  no 
question  but  that  the  degree  here  is  abnormal,  the 


238  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

result  decides  that  issue.  But  we  constantly  see  peo- 
ple so  extroverted  that  they  are  simply  confused  by 
the  multiplicity  of  objects  and  the  intricacy  of  their 
relations  and  seem  unable  to  find  any  path  through 
them.  On  the  other  hand  we  find  people  of  otherwise 
good  mind  so  introverted  that  they  are  severely 
hampered,  in  their  comfort  at  least,  by  superstitions, 
about  thirteen  perhaps  or  starting  anything  on  Fri- 
day. 

Extroversion  and  introversion  are  only  different 
aspects  of  life.  Whole  civilisations  partake  of  the 
character  of  one  rather  than  the  other.  The  East- 
ern civilisation  is  essentially  based  upon  introver- 
sion, the  Western  upon  extroversion  and  while  each 
is  incomprehensible  to  the  other, 

"Oh,  East  is  East,  and  West  is  West,  and  never 
the  twain  shall  meet." 

yet  each  produces  something  which  the  other  can  not. 
This  is  equally  true  of  individuals.  The  extreme 
examples  of  these  types  cannot  understand  each 
other.  It  is  not  by  accident  that  James  has  used 
tough-minded  and  tender-minded  as  the  terms  to  de- 
scribe them.  The  tough-minded  empiricist  is  espe- 
cially well  equipped  to  beat  his  way  through  new 
reality  situations,  to  blaze  trails  on  the  frontier  of 
progress.  The  tender-minded  rationalist  is  espe- 
cially calculated  to  conserve  all  that  is  valuable  that 
the  other  accomplishes  and  weave  it  into  enduring 
bonds  of  sympathy  to  cement  the  herd  into  effective 
unity. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       239 

Either  one  of  these  tendencies  unchecked  by  the 
other  is  liable  to  run  amuck  but  for  the  fullest  expres- 
sion of  that  "moving  equilibrium"  we  call  life  it 
would  seem  that  a  balanced  interplay  of  both  tend- 
encies were  necessary. 

THE   CONCEPT   "  INDIVIDUAL " 

Whenever  a  new  method  is  introduced  into  science 
one  of  the  inevitable  results  is  a  bringing  out  of  all 
the  old  material  and  submitting  it  to  re-examination 
by  the  new  procedures,  a  recasting  of  the  old  formulae 
in  the  new  moulds,  in  short  an  examination  of  all  of 
the  positions  hitherto  attained  and  their  revaluation 
on  the  basis  of  the  newer  concepts.  Many  of  the  con- 
cepts which  had  always  been  taken  for  granted  and 
used  uncritically  in  the  process  of  reasoning  must 
now  be  submitted  to  critical  scrutiny  to  see  just  where 
they  stand  in  relation  to  the  new  order  of  things  and 
whether  their  previous  use  has  been  altogether  war- 
ranted. 

Such  a  concept  is  that  of  "individual"  as  it  has 
been  used  in  the  domain  of  psychology.  What  con- 
stitutes an  "individual"  and  what  defines  and  limits 
the  "individual"  has  never  been  formulated 
because  it  was  so  obvious  that  the  questions  never 
were  asked,  and  so  the  concept  "individual"  has 
gone  the  broad  and  easy  way  toward  static  concrete- 
ness  and  must  needs  be  rescued,  shaken  up,  rejuve- 
nated, born  again  in  a  more  plastic  state  so  that  it 
can  be  moulded  and  made  to  fit,  in  a  useful  way,  into 
the  new  structure  that  is  being  raised. 


240  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  necessity  for  this  has  arisen  as  a  result  of 
the  introduction  of  the  genetic  concept  into  psy- 
chology. This  genetic  concept  while  it  has  been  rec- 
ognised for  a  long  time  by  psychologists,  as  well  as 
by  biologists  in  general,  has  only  lately  come  to  have 
an  actual  place  in  the  workaday  world  of  the  prac- 
tical psychologist,  more  particularly  the  psychia- 
trist, and  so  has  only  recently  been  in  a  position  to 
necessitate  a  revaluation  of  the  concept.  Pathologi- 
cal mental  symptoms  can  not  seek  their  explanation 
in  the  history  of  the  development  of  the  mind  unless 
the  concept  "individual"  is  given  a  much  different 
and  a  much  broader  meaning  than  that  implied  even 
in  the  life  history  of  a  single  person  that  begins  at 
birth  and  ends  at  death. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  distinction  between 
the  individual  and  the  environment  at  the  psychologi- 
cal level  is  at  first,  both  in  the  history  of  the  individ- 
ual and  of  the  race,  a  very  vague  one,  if  indeed  it 
can  be  said  to  exist  at  all.  We  have  seen  too  that 
this  distinction  is  of  gradual  growth  but  that  it  is 
never  fully  effected  and  under  the  influence  of  cer- 
tain abnormal  conditions  tends  to  break  down.  Let 
us  examine  the  evidence  a  little  further. 

Who  shall  say,  for  example,  at  just  what  point  the 
food  that  is  taken  into  the  gastro-intestinal  tract  loses 
its  quality  as  environment  and  becomes  a  part  of  the 
individual?  And  similarly,  who  can  answer  a 
parallel  question  with  reference  to  the  oxygen  taken 
into  the  lungs  during  inspiration?  The  real  signifi- 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION      241 

cance  of  this  question  is  understood  when  we  remem- 
ber that  neither  the  gastro-intestinal  tube  nor  the 
air  passages  are  really  within  the  body  at  all  but  are 
invaginations  of  its  surface.  Similar  questions  may 
be  asked  about  substances  given  out  from  the  body. 
Either  secretions  from  the  gastro-intestinal  tract 
or  gases  excreted  from  the  pulmonary  air  vesicles. 

Then  again  the  same  questions  may  be  asked  with 
respect  to  the  energic  conditions  at  the  surface  of 
the  body,  especially  with  reference  to  conditions  of 
temperature  and  electrical  states  which  merge  into 
the  encompassing  environment  and  constitute  a  bor- 
derland territory. 

The  interplay  of  forces  between  the  individual  and 
the  environment  is  constant  and  never-ending.  The 
effects  of  foods,  drugs,  heat  and  cold,  sun-light, 
sounds,  and  other  contacts  of  the  environment,  par- 
ticularly at  points  of  lowered  threshold  to  special 
kinds  of  stimuli  (the  sense  organs)  are,  we  know, 
very  great.  These  effects,  however,  we  always  think 
of  as  exclusively  for  the  purpose  of  analysing  the 
environment  to  enable  the  individual  to  act  upon  it 
more  intelligently — more  efficiently.  Perhaps  we 
have  thought  altogether  too  much  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem as  a  source  of  energy  and  too  little  of  the  sources 
of  energy  supply  other  than  food  and  oxygen. 

With  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  receptors  at 
the  surface  of  the  body  is  it  not  possible  that  here  is 
a  real  and  material  source  of  energy  which  has  been, 
largely  at  least,  overlooked?  I  have  in  mind  the 


242  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

observation  of  Fabre  18  upon  the  habits  of  the  Black- 
bellied  Tarantula  or  Narbonne  Lycosa  (Lycosa  nar- 
bonnensis).  The  young  of  this  spider  live  for  seven 
months,  without,  so  far  as  Fabre  could  discover,  tak- 
ing any  food  whatever.  Fabre  suggests  that  they 
are  able,  perhaps,  to  directly  utilise  the  sun's  rays 
as  a  source  of  energy.  Perhaps,  after  all,  our  idea 
that  solar  energy  cannot  be  used  as  food  by  animals 
until  it  has  been  fixed  by  chlorophyl  will  have  to  be 
modified. 

We  are  familiar  with  the  give  and  take  between 
the  individual  and  his  environment  at  the  social  level. 
The  influence  that  a  person  exercises  upon  those 
about  him  and  the  influence  of  his  associates  upon 
him.  We  see  this  influence  radiate  in  ever  widen- 
ing circles  from  a  public  speaker  or  writer  until  it 
often  outbursts  the  span  of  his  individual  life,  while 
the  germ  plasm  hands  down  actual  material  particles 
to  succeeding  generations  to  stop —  Who  shall  say 
where  ? 

We  are  familiar  with  this  give  and  take  interplay 
at  lower  levels.  We  see  the  mechanic  by  repeated 
blows  of  the  hammer  gradually  shape  a  piece  of 
metal  to  suit  his  needs  and  we  can  understand  that 
the  resistance  of  the  metal  has  called  forth  this 
particular  form  of  effort. 

I  think  it  also  useful  to  consider  the  individual 
in  the  same  way  at  still  lower  levels.  At  the  level 
of  energy  in  the  form  of  heat,  light,  sound  waves, 

is  Fabre,  J.  H.:  "The  Life  of  the  Spider."  New  York,  Dodd, 
Mead  &  Co.,  1914. 


EXTROVERSION  AND  INTROVERSION       243 

electricity.  The  individual  then  becomes,  not  a 
something  apart  from  the  environment  and  there- 
fore apart  from  contact  with  the  rest  of  the  universe, 
but  a  place  where  innumerable  forces  are  for  the 
time  being  concentrated.  In  that  sense  the  individ- 
ual is  only  a  transmitter  and  transmuter  of  energy 
while  the  terms  individual  and  environment  are  only 
the  two  extremes  of  this  relationship. 

Bergson 19  states  this  difficulty  admirably.  He 
says :  l '  No  doubt,  it  is  hard  to  decide,  even  in  the 
organised  world,  what  is  individual  and  what  is  not. 
The  difficulty  is  great,  even  in  the  animal  kingdom; 
with  plants  it  is  almost  insurmountable.  This  diffi- 
culty is,  moreover,  due  to  profound  causes,  on  which 
we  shall  dwell  later.  We  shall  see  that  individual- 
ity admits  of  any  number  of  degrees,  and  that  it  is 
not  fully  realised  anywhere,  even  in  man.  But  that 
is  no  reason  for  thinking  it  is  not  a  characteristic 
property  of  life.  The  biologist  who  proceeds  as  a 
geometrician  is  too  ready  to  take  advantage  here  of 
our  inability  to  give  a  precise  and  general  definition 
of  individuality.  A  perfect  definition  applies  only 
to  a  completed  reality;  now,  vital  properties  are 
never  entirely  realised,  though  always  on  the  way  to 
become  so;  they  are  not  so  much  states  as  tenden- 
cies. And  a  tendency  achieves  all  that  it  aims  at  only 
if  it  is  not  thwarted  by  another  tendency.  How, 
then,  could  this  occur  in  the  domain  of  life,  where,  as 
we  shall  show,  the  interaction  of  antagonistic  tenden- 
cies is  always  implied!  In  particular,  it  may  be 

19  Bergson,  "Creative  Evolution." 


244  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

said  of  individuality  that,  while  the  tendency  to  in- 
dividuate is  everywhere  present  in  the  organised 
world,  it  is  everywhere  opposed  by  the  tendency 
towards  reproduction.  For  the  individuality  to  be 
perfect,  it  would  be  necessary  that  no  detached  part 
of  the  organism  could  live  separately.  But  then  re- 
production would  be  impossible.  For  what  is  re- 
production, but  the  building  up  of  a  new  organism 
with  a  detached  fragment  of  the  old?  Individual- 
ity therefore  harbours  its  enemy  at  home.  Its  very 
need  of  perpetuating  itself  in  time  condemns  it  never 
to  be  complete  in  space.  The  biologist  must  take  due 
account  of  both  tendencies  in  every  instance,  and  it 
is  therefore  useless  to  ask  him  for  a  definition  of  in- 
dividuality that  shall  fit  all  cases  and  work  automat- 
ically." 


CHAPTER  XI 
ORGAN  INFERIORITY 

It  is,  of  course,  not  a  newly  discovered  fact  that 
many  persons  have  defective  organs,  organs  that 
function  poorly,  that  do  not  bear  stresses  as  they 
should,  and  that  often  exhibit  anatomical  character- 
istics which  indicate  that  they  are  developmentally 
defective.  It  is,  too,  no  new  fact  that  the  state  of  the 
organs  influences  the  mental  processes  and  certain 
organic  diseases  have  long  been  thought  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  certain  types  of  mental  state.  The  hope- 
fulness of  pulmonary  tuberculosis,  the  hypochon- 
driacal  depression  associated  with  diseases  below  the 
diaphragm  are  familiar  examples  while  other  in- 
stances, perhaps  not  so  firmly  associated,  are  the 
anxiety  that  goes  with  aortic  disease  and  the  dulness 
associated  with  mitral  deficiency  and  defective  aera- 
tion of  the  blood.  Perfectly  obvious  illustrations  are 
the  effect  of  exertion  in  heart  cases  with  the  result- 
ing dyspnoea,  the  feeling  of  impending  dissolution 
in  angina  pectoris,  the  delirium  in  advanced  cases 
of  nephritis,  and  the  dementia  that  is  associated  with 
destructive  cerebral  processes. 

From  such  illustrations  we  might  trace  the  cor- 
respondences further  and  further  from  an  obvious 
relationship  between  the  organic  defect  and  the 

245 


246  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

mental  state.  A  fairly  characteristic  type  of  men- 
tal disorder  is  known  to  be  associated  with  Hunting- 
ton's  chorea,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  there  has  been 
any  serious  effort  to  really  explain  it.  Among  the 
disorders  of  the  ductless  glands,  the  endocrinopa- 
thies,  one  at  least,  exophthalmic  goitre,  has  been  ex- 
haustively studied  on  the  mental  side  by  the  surgeons, 
more  particularly  in  relation  to  the  problem  of  opera- 
tion. No  adequate  explanation  of  the  mental  symp- 
toms has  issued  as  a  result,  however.  Others  such 
as  acromegaly  and  cretinism  have  known  character- 
istic mental  pictures  associated  but  no  effort  has  yet 
extended  beyond  trying  to  describe  the  symptoms  at 
a  wholly  superficial  level.  The  list  might  be  ex- 
tended but  when  we  find  a  medical  officer  on  the 
line  at  Ellis  Island  picking  an  emigrant  out  of  line 
and  marking  him  for  examination  for  hernia  from 
an  indefinable  something  he  was  able  to  detect  in  his 
facial  expression  we  realise  the  necessity  for  some 
general  principles  in  order  that  we  may  be  able  to 
find  our  way  among  such  confusing  facts. 

And  finally  it  remained  for  Alfred  Adler  x  to  more 
particularly  take  up  this  problem  of  inferior  organs 
and  attempt  to  show  their  end  results  as  displayed  in 
certain  character  traits. 

The  principle  underlying  the  possibility  of  an  in- 
ferior organ  being  the  basic  reason  for  a  certain  char- 
acter trait  lies  in  the  structure  of  the  individual  al- 
ready traced.  The  various  functions  of  the  body  are 

i  Particularly  in  his  two  works  "Studie  iiber  Minderwertigkeit 
von  Organen"  and  "Uber  den  Nervosen  Charakter." 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  247 

integrated  and  re-integrated  at  progressively  higher, 
that  is,  phylogenetically  more  recent  levels,  from  the 
physico-chemical,  through  the  sensory-motor,  to  the 
psychic.  The  psyche  is  the  switch-board  where  each 
organ,  each  function  finds  its  final  representation, 
and  this  final  integration,  builded  upon  the  founda- 
tion composed  of  lower  adjustments,  compromises, 
integrations,  can  only  be  what  it  is  because  of  the 
underlying  material  out  of  which  it  grows.  We 
should  expect  to  find,  therefore,  that  any  organ  that 
materially  departs  from  the  usual  in  its  capacity  for 
a  quality  of  function  would  so  modify  the  integration 
from  that  point  as  to  cause  a  corresponding  ex- 
pression at  the  psychological  level.  This  is  rather 
a  complicated  statement,  perhaps,  but  will  easily  be 
made  clear  by  an  example. 

Dr.  Barker  reports  2  a  case  of  a  eunuchoid  showing 
signs  of  hypogenitalism  and  dyshypophysism.  This 
patient  had  rudimentary  sexual  organs,  he  had  never 
had  sexual  feeling  nor  been  able  to  effect  inter- 
course. His  general  physical  make  up  was  sugges- 
tive of  the  female  sex,  namely,  scanty  hair,  excess  of 
breast  tissue,  broad  pelvis.  As  a  result  of  the  crit- 
icism of  his  associates  of  these  feminine  characteris- 
tics he  said  that  he  had  made  many  efforts  to  do 
"manly  work" — and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  always 
had  done  hard  muscular  work.  He  had  been  a  cow- 
boy, a  sailor,  a  soldier  in  the  Boer  war,  and  was  a 
boiler-maker  at  the  time  he  applied  for  treatment. 

2  Barker,  L.  F. :  On  Abnormalities  of  the  Endocrine  Functions 
of  the  Gonads  in  the  Male.  Am.  Jour.  Med.  Sci.,  Jan.,  1915. 


248  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

This  illustrates  my  point  with  perfect  clearness. 
A  defect  at  the  level  of  the  ductless  glands  is  re- 
flected in  the  psyche  of  the  individual  by  his  choice  of 
work — by  his  conduct.  The  inferiority,  which  had 
the  effect  of  preventing  the  development  of  the  sex- 
ual characteristics  that  properly  belonged  to  his  sex 
— in  general,  masculinity — had  the  effect  at  the  psy- 
chological level  of  producing  conduct  calculated  to 
compensate  for  the  lack. 

This  is  the  work  of  compensation  for  an  inferior 
organ  as  it  manifests  itself  at  the  psychological 
level.  It  is  the  mechanism  which  Adler  has  espe- 
cially emphasised  in  his  work.  It  is  well  summed 
up  by  Hall.3 

1 '  Every  subnormal  (minderwertige)  organ  is  more 
plastic  and  adaptable  than  normal  organs  or  func- 
tions. Under  the  stimulus  and  protection  of  the 
central  nervous  system  when  it  has  taken  the  helm 
they  may  become  not  only  the  more  variable  in  other 
ways  but  may  even  become  supernormal.  What  is 
more  important,  they  may  be  compensated  by  other 
organs  or  functions  with  which  they  are  correlated. 
Moreover  superstructures  are  built  which  vicariate 
for  them,  supplementing  their  deficiencies.  Thus  re- 
calling, as  we  saw  above,  that  man  is  a  congeries  of 
many  organs  in  various  stages  of  evolution  and  de- 
cline, the  nervous  system  when  it  comes  to  power 
establishes  a  set  of  interrelations  between  those  that 
are  essential  under  the  impulse  of  the  will  to  live. 

a  Hall,  G.  S.:  A  Synthetic  Genetic  Study  of  Fear,  Chap.  I. 
Am.  Jour.  Psychol.,  Ap.,  1914. 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  249 

Leaving  some  to  decline  and  powerfully  stimulating 
others  to  unfold  and  develop,  by  keeping  them  suffi- 
ciently but  not  too  much  in  exercise,  it  reinforces 
both  atrophy  and  hypertrophy.  In  the  effort  of  the 
psyche  to  foster  the  important  organs  and  functions 
which  it  selects  for  its  special  care,  organic  defect 
may  be  compensated  by  excess  of  nervous  activity. 
Indeed,  most  compensations  are  in  the  psychic 
though  not  necessarily  in  the  conscious  field.  No 
one  is  perfect,  and  hence  compensation  is  necessary 
for  all.  It  makes  for,  if  indeed  it  does  not  make, 
consciousness  itself.  Those  organs  and  functions 
which  the  psyche  cannot  directly  or  indirectly  con- 
trol decay  or  become  stigmata.  Where  the  brain 
fails  to  establish  a  compensatory  system  we  have  all 
the  hosts  of  neuroses  and  psychoses.  The  existence 
of  sub-  or  abnormal  organs  or  functions  always 
brings  Janet's  sense  of  incompleteness  or  insuffi- 
ciency, and  this  arouses  a  countervailing  impulsion 
to  be  complete  and  efficient  which  those  to  whom  na- 
ture gave  lives  of  balanced  harmony  do  not  feel. 
The  ideal  goal  is  always  to  be  a  whole  man  or  woman 
in  mind  and  body,  and  this  may  crop  out  in  the  child- 
ish wishes  that  are  sometimes  fulfilled  in  dreams,  in 
the  ambition  of  the  boy  who  aches  to  be  a  man,  and 
in  general  in  the  desire  to  overcome  all  defects  and 
to  evolve  a  full-rounded,  mature,  powerful  and  well- 
balanced  personality.  To  illustrate,  each  bilateral 
organ  compensates  for  defect  in  the  other,  one  sense 
for  another  like  touch  for  sight  In  the  blind.  Mozart 
had  an  imperfectly  developed  ear;  Beethoven  had 


250 

otosclerosis ;  Demosthenes  stammered  and,  as  if 
mythology  had  recognised  this  law,  many  of  the 
ancient  gods  were  defective.  Odin  had  but  one  eye ; 
Tyr,  one  hand ;  Vulcan  was  lame ;  Vidar  dumb.  So, 
too,  the  ugly  Socrates  made  himself  a  beautiful  soul. 
A  man  with  a  weak  digestion  becomes  a  dietetic  ex- 
pert in  battling  with  fate.  Little  men  walk  straight ; 
tall  men  stoop.  Handsome  men  are  superficial.  A 
subnormal  eye  intensifies  the  visual  psyche.  In  the 
effort  to  control  enuresis  due  to  renal  insufficiency 
over-compensation  may  predispose  to  even  dreams  of 
water.  Sex  weakness  is  supplemented  by  fancies 
of  superpotence.  Many  diseases  have  compensating 
forms  with  which  they  alternate  or  for  which  they 
vicariate  and  the  very  principle  of  immunisation  is 
involved.  Weak  parts  and  functions  draw  attention 
and  are  invigorated  thereby.  Fear  of  an  object  ex- 
cites interest  in  it  and  this  brings  the  knowledge  that 
casts  out  fear.  Very  much  of  the  total  energy  of  all 
of  us  and  still  more  of  that  of  neurotics  and  psy- 
chotics  is  spent  in  developing  and  using  devices  of 
concealment  (Deckphenomene)  of  diseases  and  de- 
fects. Thus  often  the  higher  protective  and  defen- 
sive mechanisms  come  to  do  the  work  of  the  sub- 
normal function  even  better  than  it  would  do  it. 
Conversely  compensation  has  its  limits  and  when  it 
breaks  down  we  have  anxiety,  the  most  comprehen- 
sive of  all  fears  and  the  alpha  and  omega  of  psy- 
chiatry, the  degree  of  which  is  inversely  as  the  ability 
to  realise  the  life-wish  of  self-maximisation.  It 
involves  a  sense  of  inferiority,  inadequacy  and  great 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  251 

inner  tension.  The  goal  may  be  the  humble  one  of 
self-support,  normality,  merely  absence  of  actual 
pain,  or  deformity,  but  the  prospect  of  failure  to 
attain  it  brings  a  distress  probably  equalled  by  no 
other  form  of  suffering  and  every  fear  is  a  special 
form  or  degree  of  it.  If  the  good,  strong,  healthy, 
higher  components  can  neither  improve  nor  atone  for 
the  bad,  weak,  low  or  morbid  elements,  anxiety,  con- 
scious or  unconscious,  supervenes,  values  lose  their 
worth,  we  tend  to  take  refuge  from  reality  in  fancies, 
and  innate  momenta  are  arrested  and  we  suffer  we 
know  not  what,  perhaps  fear  itself."  Let  us  pursue 
the  matter  a  little  further. 

Adler,  especially  in  his  work  on  the  inferiority  of 
organs,4  takes  up  in  detail  the  reasons  why  we  may 
consider  an  organ  inferior.  For  example,  one  per- 
son gets  up  an  inflammation  of  the  kidneys  from  a 
certain  poison,  another  person  escapes :  some  people 
have  excessive  reactions  upon  very  trivial  causes, 
such  as  an  albuminuria  as  a  result  of  constipation. 
All  these  special  susceptibilities  can  only  be  ex- 
plained, he  thinks,  upon  the  hypothesis  of  organ 
inferiority. 

The  particular  interest  that  the  inferior  organ  has 
in  the  matter  of  character  traits  depends  upon  the 
fact  that  it  receives  its  representation  in  the  psyche 
by  means  of  its  nervous,  "psychomotor"  superstruc- 
ture. It  is  in  this  psychomotor  superstructure  that 

*  Adler,  A.:  "Studie  iiber  Minderwertigkeit  von  Organen,"  1907. 
Eng.  tr.  "Study  of  Organ  Inferiority  and  Its  Psychical  Compensa- 
tion," Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  24. 


252  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

compensation  must  take  place  if  the  individual  is  to 
be  able  to  adequately  adjust  to  his  organ  inferiority. 

The  difficulty  with  these  inferior  organs  is  that 
they  do  not  stand  well  the  increased  duties  put  upon 
them  by  the  increasing  cultural  demands  of  develop- 
ment but  lag  behind  and  by  preference  engage  in 
pleasure  seeking.  This  is  well  seen  in  the  functions 
of  emptying  the  bladder  and  rectum.  These  func- 
tions, as  the  child  grows  older,  have  to  be  more  and 
more  repressed  in  compliance  with  the  cultural 
demands.  But  some  persons  never  learn  to  accom- 
modate themselves  at  all  well  to  these  demands  and 
in  any  case  their  repressions  break  down  easily 
under  any  degree  of  unusual  stress  of  requirements. 
In  other  words,  they  have  only  succeeded  with  great 
effort  because  of  this  fundamental  defect  and  can 
only  hold  themselves  poised  under  favourable  con- 
ditions, but  as  soon  as  anything  extra  is  demanded 
they  drop  at  once  to  a  lower  cultural  level  with  re- 
spect to  the  function  of  the  particular  inferior  organ. 
For  example,  Adler,  speaking  of  these  conditions  in 
terms  of  heightened  reflex  manifestations,  mentions 
those  persons,  who,  under  any  stress  stammer,  vomit, 
laugh,  cry,  scratch  themselves,  tear  their  hair,  start, 
blink  or  have  violent  attacks  of  spasmodic  sneezing 
upon  seeing  a  bright  light,  squint  when  looking  at 
anything  close  at  hand,  etc. 

As  an  example  of  his  way  of  looking  at  specific 

cases  I  will  cite  his  case  of  Ladislaus  F eight 

years  of  age.  He  was  injured  in  August,  1905,  by 
approaching  too  close  to  a  schoolmate  who  was 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  253 

brandishing  a  pen.  The  pen  pierced  the  outer  upper 
quadrant  of  the  left  eye  ball.  It  pierced  the  con- 
junctiva and  entered  the  sclera.  The  wound  healed 
uneventfully.  In  October  of  the  same  year  he  again 
presented  himself  with  a  coal  splinter  imbedded  in 
the  cornea  of  the  left  eye,  which  had  been  blown 
there  by  a  gust  of  wind.  This  was  extracted  and  the 
wound  healed.  In  January,  1906,  he  suffered  an- 
other wound  of  the  left  eye  caused,  as  was  the  first, 
by  a  pen  in  the  hands  of  a  schoolmate.  The  wound 
was  about  one  centimetre  beneath  and  inside  of  the 
other  wound.  This  also  healed  leaving  an  ink 
stained  scar. 

The  history  of  this  case  showed:  the  maternal 
grandfather  suffered  from  diabetic  iritis  and  was 
for  a  long  time  under  the  care  of  an  ophthalmologist. 
The  mother  had  a  convergent  strabismus  as  did  also 
the  patient's  younger  brother,  and  both  had  hyper- 
metropia  and  diminished  acuteness  of  vision  which 
could  not  be  accurately  measured  because  of  the 
inattention  and  defective  intelligence  of  the  boy.  A 
maternal  uncle  was  a  sufferer  from  recurrent  attacks 
of  an  eczematous  conjunctivitis  and  also  had  a  con- 
vergent strabismus.  The  patient  had  normal  visual 
acuteness  with  slight  hypermetropia  but  showed  a 
lack  of  conjunctival  reflexes  in  both  eyes. 

These  facts  are  presented  to  show  that  the  boy 
suffered  an  inferiority  of  the  eye  which  had  a  strong 
hereditary  basis,  manifesting  itself  particularly  in 
the  deficiency  of  the  conjunctival  reflexes  and  the 
poor  protection  of  the  eyes  by  the  boy,  which  seem 


254  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

to  be  related,  in  some  not  wholly  explained  way,  to 
the  deficient  reflex  action. 

Adler  emphasises  the  capacity  which  the  psyche 
has  for  correcting  such  faults  as  this.  The  inferior 
organ  is  the  object  of  a  particular  interest  which 
seeks  to  protect  it  and  so  the  boy,  if  he  could  be 
made  aware  of  this  inferiority,  could  learn  by  experi- 
ence to  better  protect  his  defective  organs. 

The  childish  faults  such  as  constipation,  vomiting, 
blinking,  squinting,  stuttering,  sucking  the  thumb, 
lack  of  control  of  bowels  and  bladder  require  control, 
that  is,  repression  of  this  functioning  as  a  source  of 
organic  sensory  pleasure  as  the  child  grows  older, 
in  response  to  cultural  demands.  Thus  "limitation 
of  organic  sensory  pleasure  for  the  benefit  of  cul- 
tural progress  becomes  the  test  of  organic  normal- 
ity."- The  inferior  organ  remains  with  increased 
sensitivity  to  sensory  pleasure  which  is  because  it 
cannot  follow  the  safe  path  of  the  cultural  require- 
ments. It  is,  however,  the  cause  of  all  organic 
activity  while  the  cultural  requirements  themselves 
draw  their  strength  from  repressed  sensory  pleasure. 

We  see  here,  of  course,  an  expression  of  the  con- 
flict in  terms  of  organ  inferiority.  There  could  be 
no  conflict  if  all  the  elements  were  equal.  It  is 
exceedingly  interesting  to  note  in  this  connection  a 
recent  paper  by  Bates 5  on  curing  errors  of  refrac- 
tion without  glasses  by  central  fixation.  The  author 

6  Bates,  W.  H.:  The  Cure  of  Defective  Eyesight  by  Treatment 
Without  Glasses  or  The  Eadical  Cure  of  Errors  of  Refraction  by 
Means  of  Central  Fixation.  N.  7.  Med.  Jour.,  May  8,  1915. 


OKGAN  INFERIORITY  255 

concludes,  among  other  things,  that:  "The  cause  of 
all  errors  of  refraction  is  a  strain  to  see.  The  cure 
is  accomplished  by  relaxation.  Relaxation  is  se- 
cured by  central  fixation. ' ' 

To  translate  this  into  terms  of  libido  we  should 
say  that  defective  vision  was  a  defective  use  of  eye 
libido ;  and  that  it  was  necessary  to  bring  the  nature 
of  the  defect  into  consciousness  in  order  that  the 
psyche  might  attend  to  it  and  thereby  bring  about  a 
more  efficient  use  of  the  libido.  Surely  it  is  a  far 
cry  from  ophthalmology,  approaching  an  exact 
science,  that  is  relatively  as  the  medical  sciences  go, 
based  upon  the  mathematical  measurement  of  sur- 
face curvatures  to  the  treatment  of  the  errors  of 
refraction,  so  to  speak,  psychotherapeutically. 

Cannon  has  demonstrated6  that  under  the  influ- 
ence of  fear  or  anger  a  minute  portion  of  adrenalin 
is  thrown  into  the  blood  current  from  the  suprarenal 
glands.  The  effects  of  this  adrenalin  are  to  con- 
tract the  superficial  blood  vessels,  increase  the 
coagulability  of  the  blood,  decrease  the  fatiguibility 
of  the  muscles,  dilate  the  bronchioles,  and  throw  into 
the  circulation  a  considerable  quantity  of  dextrose. 

The  meaning  of  these  changes  becomes  clear  when 
the  emotions  which  cause  them  are  correlated  with 
the  characteristic  conduct  belonging  to  them.  Thus 
fear  and  anger  are  correlated  with  that  conduct 
which  we  call  flight  and  fight. 

The  animal  that  has  to  run  or  fight  for  its  life 

« Cannon,  W.  B. :  "Bodily  Changes  in  Pain,  Hunger,  Fear  and 
Rage."  N.  Y.,  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1915. 


256  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

would  obviously  be  tremendously  benefited  by  hav- 
ing the  superficial  capillaries  contracted,  the  supply 
of  energy  in  the  blood  current  being  thus  deflected 
to  the  muscles  and  central  nervous  system;  the 
fatiguibility  of  the  muscles  lessened;  the  coagu- 
lability of  the  blood  increased  so  that  bleeding  from 
wounds  that  were  received  might  be  limited ;  muscle 
food  discharged  into  the  blood  which  could  still 
further  help  to  sustain  the  animal  in  its  time  of 
stress;  and  finally,  breathing  made  easier  by  the 
dilatation  of  the  bronchioles. 

In  this  situation  we  see  a  perfectly  clear  and  under- 
standable relation  between  certain  physiological 
reactions  on  the  one  hand  and  certain  psychological 
reactions  on  the  other.  In  the  last  analysis  why 
should  not  every  physiological  reaction  have  its 
psychological  co-ordinate?  In  the  meantime,  how- 
ever, we  see  here  a  picture  in  which  the  high  light 
illumines  a  feature  in  the  foreground  of  a  certain 
disease.  The  disease  is  diabetes  mellitus  and  the 
common  element  is  glycosuria  or  hyperglycemia,  an 
increased  sugar  content  of  the  blood.  Why  might 
we  not  expect  to  find  by  an  analysis  of  the  psyche 
a  psychological  correlation  just  as  meaningful  as 
that  found  by  Cannon?  Here  are  just  a  few  con- 
siderations which  are  of  interest  in  connection  with 
this  suggestion. 

It  has  long  been  believed  that  certain  cases  of 
diabetes  were  of  nervous  origin  and  the  psychic 
factor  has  been  emphasised  in  many  of  them.  The 
connection  between  such  psychic  states  as  influence 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  257 

the  elimination  of  sug^r  and  hyperexcitability  of 
certain  portions  of  the  sympathetic  system  and  the 
action  of  adrenalin  has  been  recognised  and  has 
been  discussed  by  Falta 7  in  his  recent  work,  who 
speaks  of  a  nervous  or  adrenilinogenic  type. 

It  is  exceedingly  interesting  to  speculate  along 
these  lines  as  to  wnat  form  the  psychic  expression 
would  take  but  it  would  seem  that  it  must  be  the 
result  of  a  repression  of  anger  or  fear,  a  state 
brought  about  as  a  result  of  preparing  the  body  for 
fight  or  flight,  that  is  for  action,  and  no  action  takes 
place.  It  will  be  recalled  that  the  adrenals  and  the 
liver  are  included  in  Cmle's  kinetic  system.8 

In  turning  to  Osier 'J9  " Practice  of  Medicine,"  a 
reading  of  the  section  on  etiology  suggests  still 
further  correlations.  It  is  much  more  common  in 
Europe  than  in  America.  Is  not  this  what  might  be 
expected?  The  older  civilisation  means  greater  re- 
pression particularly,  too,  because  of  greater  con- 
gestion of  the  population  and  so  keener  competition. 
For  similar  reasons  it  is  much  less  frequent  in  the 
coloured  race  than  in  the  white  race.  One  who  is 
familiar  with  the  coloured  race  knows  that  repression 
is  not  one  of  its  prominent  characteristics.  And 
finally  it  seems  to  be  generally  conceded  that  it  is 
especially  prevalent  in  the  Semitic  race.  Here  cer- 

i  Falta,  W.:  "The  Ductless  Glandular  Diseases."  Philadelphia, 
P.  Blackiston's  Son  &  Co.,  1915. 

sCrile,  G.  W.:  "The  Origin  and  Nature  of  the  Emotions." 
Philadelphia,  W.  B.  Saunders  Co.,  1915. 

» Osier,  W.:  "The  Principles  and  Practice  of  Medicine."  3rd 
Ed.  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York,  1899. 


258  CHARACTER  FORMATION 


tainly  no  argument  ij^^ed  to  demonstrate  the 
larger  factor  that  repression  may  well  play  in  a  race 
which,  in  Europe  particularly,  has  continuously  been 
the  object  of  prejudice  and  so  suppressed  in  all 
manner  of  ways  for  centuries. 

Of  course  I  do  not  offer  thesje  considerations  as 
anything  more  than  suggestioifi  The  clinical  pic- 
ture which  we  know  as  diabetes  mellitus  is  probably 
a  very  complex  one  into  which  many  factors  may 
enter.  I  merely  suggest  a  point  of  view  for  one 
aspect  of  the  problem. 

When  a  man  loses  an  aljti  or  leg,  or  is  deprived 
by  accident  or  disease  of  Sspecial  sense,  sight  or 
hearing,  it  is  perfectly  obvious  that  he  has  to  make 
certain  concessions  to  hig  Creiect  and  eff^fct  certain 
compromises  in  order  to  get  along  at  his  best.  The 
effect  upon  the  psyche  is  not  always  so  obvious  but 
it  must  be  evident  that  it  must  take  place  if  a  little 
thought  is  given  to  the  matter  from  this  point  of 
view.  The  general  suspicions  and  paranoid  tend- 
ency of  partially  deaf  persons  is  well  known  while 
in  other  defects  it  might  be  said,  in  general,  that  to 
the  extent  that  the  deprivation  has  caused  a  change 
from  the  previous  mode  of  life  it  has  necessarily 
also  caused  a  correlative  change  in  the  way  of 
thinking.  . 

The  thesis  here  laid  down,  however,  is  much  more 
all-embracing.  It  sees  the  will  to  power,  as  a  great 
creative  energy,  streaming  through  the  body  ;  creat- 
ing and  making  to  grow  its  several  organs  each  one 
of  which  would  appropriate  as  much  of  the  energy 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY 


259 


dthb 

other  wife 
the  normal 

I!!'  i'i.f!-:!-;;!:!:.' 

HHII 

•~ 

the 

profl^j^5l  the 
bajfciced  tendencies  fore 

>est  serve  the 
le  purpose  a 
whole,  its  t< 
the  human 
the  psy 
alonyt 


tend  to  dominate  the 
alanced,  and  as  we  say, 

F  energy  Is  split  up  into 
ch  tendency  represented 
organ,  and  each  accu- 
d  by  counter-tendencies 
organism   is   the   final 
(these  opposed  and 
pattern  which 


receives  expression  m 
final  integration  in 
fion  that  if  at  any  point 


is  unable  ^  do  its 

share  iif^UBPk^^B  k  flMUfesions  wliich  have 
to  be  inme  to  this  fpNHiMfcthc  compromises  that 
have  to  begeffected  as  a  result  of  it  must  ultimately 
find  their  'expression  at  %ie  psychological  level.  In 
other  words,  when  an  individual  suffers  from  an 
organic  defect,  that  he  is  thereby  hampered  in  his 
conduct  along  those  lines  th^t  require  the  full  and 
complete  functioning  of  that  particular%rgan,  and 
that  therefore  his  whole  mental  attitude  must  .be 
twisted  to  overcome  and  get  around  the  defect  m 
his  organic  structure,  and  in  order  to  bring  things 
to  pass  which  he  desires,  he  has  to  a  certain  extent 
to  distort  his  conduct  because  \>f  the  barrier  which 
this  defective  organ  continuously  offers. 

This  way  of  looking  at  the  facts,  I  think,  extremely 
valuable  because  it  seems  to  me  the  common  basis 


260 


CHAEAC 


on  which  the  organic! 
come  together.    For  examf? 
a  generation  af  o  when  t 
aJhistolpgy  of  the  cer 
sense -and  when,  with  th 
diseases  had  no  cereb 
ground  that  structure 
to  a  parallelistic 
and  psychology 


ogy 


two 
to  keep 


mged 


part 
dge  of 
less  glands 
non  we 


ines 


articu- 


larly  with  the  develop 
vegetative  nervous  s 
and  as  a  result  »f  sucE 
see  the*  two  erst 
merging  one  into 

This  new  way  of 
*farly  important  for  the  evaluation  of  certain  recent 
results.  Bolton 10  in  his  ^H>rk  on  mentaf  pathology 
claims  that  while  syphilis  is  a  necessary  antecedent 
to  dementia  paralytica,  still  that  the  patients  who 
suffer  from  this  for^of  mental  disease  would,  if 
they  had  ^bt  acquired  syphilis,  have  suffered  from 
le  one  of  the  types  of  chronic  neuronic  dementia. 
[e  bases  his  assertion  largely  upon  evidence  of  a 
high  percentage  of  heredity  of  mental  disease,  and 
of  parental  and  family  degeneracy  which  he  has 
obtained  in  cases  of  Dementia  paralytica,  and  he  also 
thinks  that  he  has  shown  the  existence  of  cerebral 


10  Bolton,  J.  S.:     "The  Brain  in  Health  find  Disease,"    London, 
1914. 


-    ,  ORGAN  INFERIORITY  261 

w 

under-develpprnent  in  certain  types  of  this  form  of 
mental  disease. 

The  .nature,  of  the  movement  in  this  direction,  the 
hitching  up  of  organ  defects  and  the  nature  of  patho- 
logical reaction  types,  is  very  well  seen  in  the  recent 
work  of  Oftersteiner  n  on  the  Importance  of  Endog- 
enous Factors  for  the  Pathogenesis  of  Nervous 
He  has  shown  the  presence  of  organ  de- 
facts  in  a  number  of  diseases.  For  example  in 
tabes  (locomotor  ataxia)  accurate  measurements 
have  demonstrated  the  persistence  in  the  cord  of 
certain  infantile  characteristics.  Organ  defects  have 
also  been  demonstrated  in  multiple  sclerosis,  syrin- 
gomyelia,  juvenile  paresis,  epilepsy,  dementia  prsB- 
cox,  hereditary  ataxia,  amaurotic  idiocy,  pseudo- 
sclerosis,  Wilson's  disease,, and  even  in  brain  tumor. 

It  has  always  been  remarked  that  so  few  syphilitics 
develop  paresis.  Perhaps  here  is  the  key  to  the 
explanation.  In  fact  Obersteiner  thinks  th'at  the 
findings  in  tabes  and  juvenile  paresis,  as  well  as 
clinical  experience,  lead  to  the  suspicion  of  the  exist- 
ence of  a  specific  constitution  for  adult  paresis  which 
may  perhaps  be  ultimately  capable  of  histological 
demonstration. 

One  is  reminded  in  this  connection  of  the  work  of 
Southard 12  who  described  certain  anomalies  in 

11  Obersteiner,  H. :  Die  Bedeutung  des  Endogenen  Factors  f iir  die 
Pathogenese  der  Nervenkrankheiten.  Neurol.  CentralbL,  Apr.,  1915. 
Abstracted  by  Kirby  in  the  State  Hospitals  Bulletin.  August,  1915. 
^ghi  Study  of  the  Dementia  Prsecox  Group  in 
the  L^^^^^^^iaii^HHs  showing  Anomalies  or  Scleroses  in  Par- 
ticular ^H  i^ions^^am.  Jour.  Insanity,  July,  1910. 


262  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

praecox  brains  which  might  easily  be  interpreted  as 
ageneses — defects  of  development. 

This  whole  problem  is  receiving  emphasis  from 
many  directions.  Particularly  with  reference  to  the 
connection  of  syphilis  with  the  neuroses  and  psy- 
choses. The  evidence  on  this  point  has  recently 
been  briefly  reviewed  by  Bazeley  and  Anderson.1* 
They  conclude  that  the  evidence  is  increasing  fo 
regarding  the  endogenous  psychoses  and  psychon^i- 
roses  to  be  the  last  offshoots  of  a  syphilitic  heredity. 
They  cite  Mott's  work  which  shows  the  tendency  that 
would  exist  for  dementia  praecox  stock  to  die  out 
because  of  its  earlier  appearance  in  successive  gen- 
erations but  inasmuch  as  the  disease  appears  to  be 
increasing  there  must  be  some  extraneous  factor  at 
work  which  he  suggests  is  syphilis.  They  also  cite 
Freud's  statement  that  in  more  than  one-half  of  his 
severe  cases  of  hysteria,  compulsion  neurosis,  etc., 
he  had  succeeded  in  demonstrating  that  the  father 
had  gone  through  an  attack  of  syphilis  before  mar- 
riage and  had  either  suffered  from  tabes  or  paresis 
or  there  was  a  general  history  of  syphilis.  He  added 
that  the  children  who  developed  and  became  neurotic 
showed  absolutely  no  signs  of  hereditary  syphilis. 

All  this  is  interesting  in  connection  with  the  theory 
of  allergic  as  applied  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
nature  of  syphilitic  lesions  by  Mclntosh  and  Fildes.14 

is  Bazeley,  J.  H.,  and  Anderson,  H.  M. :  Mental  Features  of 
Congenital  Syphilitics.  Boston  Med.  and^Surg.  Jour., 

1915.  ^B  ^^^^-r 

i*  Mclntosh,  J.,  and   Fildes,   P. :     A   C^^msni^B     •Lesions 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  263 

The  whole  theory  of  immunity  might  also  be  con- 
sidered from  this  standpoint  for  constitutional  fac- 
tors need  not  be  altogether  morphological  but  bio- 
chemical as  Obersteiner  points  out.15  Instances  in 
point  are  the  various  types  of  reaction  to  poisons 
such  as  alcohol  and  the  existence  of  personal  and 
family  idiosyncrasies  for  certain  foods  for  example. 
The  special  susceptibility  of  one  organ  rather  than 
another  for  some  form  of  noxa,  would,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  Adler,  be  an  expression  of  its 
inferiority. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  physiology  the  cortex 
may  be  considered  as  a  more  complex  form  of  nerv- 
ous arrangement  in  which  still  are  maintained,  how- 
ever, the  fundamental  principles  of  reflex  action; 
namely,  incoming  stimulus,  central  rearrangement, 
and  outgoing  response.  If  this  is  true  then  con- 
duct, which  has  this  physical  substratum,  must  be 
fashioned  along  the  same  lines.  The  only  difference 
between  the  manifestations  of  conduct  and  the  spinal 
reflex  being  that  of  complexity.  The  way  in  which 
simple  reflexes  may  be  built  up  in  complex  relations 
which  have  lost  their  resemblance  to  the  simple  pat- 
tern on  which  they  were  constructed  has  been  shown 
by  the  Russian  physiologist  Pawlow  in  what  he  has 
called  conditioned  reflexes. 

Pawlow's  experiments  were  carried  out  on  the 
function  of  the  secretion  of  saliva  in  dogs.  Here  is 

of  Syphilis  and  "Parasyphilis,"  together  with  evidence  in  favour  of 
the  identity  of  these  two  conditions.  Brain,  Sept.,  1914. 

15I/OC.   dt. 


264  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  type  of  experiment.  When  a  dog  is  shown  food 
there  is  immediately  a  marked  secretion  of  saliva. 
Now  the  situation  was  somewhat  complicated  by 
associating  another  stimulus  with  the  showing  of 
the  food,  for  example,  the  ringing  of  a  bell  so  that 
each  time  food  was  shown  the  bell  was  rung  and  the 
secretion  of  saliva  followed.  This  presentation  of 
these  associated  stimuli  was  continued  for  some- 
time, and  then  it  was  found  that  the  ringing  of  the 
bell  alone,  without  the  presentation  of  the  food  at  all, 
was  sufficient  to  evoke  the  secretion.  This  is  what 
he  called  a  conditioned  reflex.  From  this  experi- 
ment it  is  seen  how  various  elements  can  be  combined 
into  a  system  by  the  mere  fact  of  having  been  asso- 
ciated together  and  how  the  results  of  such  a  system 
may  be  activity  which,  on  the  one  hand  might  appear 
to  have  no  cause  at  all,  as  if  the  secretion  was  noted 
but  the  relation  of  the  sound  of  the  bell  was  not 
understood,  or  on  the  other  hand  conduct  appears 
which  seems  entirely  voluntary  and  intelligent,  as 
for  example  the  going  to  dinner  when  the  bell  rings. 
If  the  principle  of  the  conditioned  reflex  is  pursued 
it  is  evident  that  as  the  situation  becomes  more  and 
more  complicated  by  additional  elements  and  by 
cross  associations  the  results  are  more  and  more  im- 
possible of  prediction.  Conduct  therefore  tends 
toward  the  unpredictable  and  in  fact  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  think  of  that  conduct  which  is  the  least 
predictable  as  the  most  voluntary.  As  already  set 
forth,  however,  modern  psychology  is  deterministic 
and  therefore  can  only  regard  such  an  attitude 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  265 

towards  conduct  as  but  another  attempt  to  regain 
our  lost  omnipotence. 

From  this  point  of  view,  however,  we  again  get 
light  upon  the  correlation  of  the  organic  and  func- 
tional viewpoints.  The  structure  of  the  cortex  is 
the  organic  substratum  upon  which  are  based  these 
reactions.  Cortical  organ  inferiority  therefore  is 
perhaps  at  the  basis  of  certain  defects  of  conduct. 
We  feel  sure  that  it  is  in  the  graver  defects  of  idiots 
and  imbeciles.  The  question  is  whether  the  concept 
is  valuable  for  the  higher  types  of  defect. 

The  concept  is  a  valuable  one  if  it  is  not  over- 
worked. So  long  as  we  think  only  of  the  struggle 
for  power  among  the  partial  libido  trends  reaching 
temporary  solutions  as  a  result  of  successes,  failures, 
and  compromises  which  results  receive  a  final  sym- 
bolic representation  in  the  psyche  the  concept  is 
valuable.  But  so  soon  as  we  jump  at  the  conclusion 
that  any  failure  to  adjust  is  dependent  upon  an  organ 
defect  which  is  inherent  and  therefore  unchangeable 
the  reason  for  a  therapeutic  attack  upon  the  problem 
is  at  once  destroyed.  In  the  face  of  what  we  actually 
know  about  therapeutic  possibilities  not  only  in  the 
field  of  mental  medicine  but  in  general  medicine  such 
an  attitude  is  unwarranted.  We  know,  for  example, 
that  an  accumulation  of  pus  if  left  to  itself  may 
burrow  into  some  vital  part  and  cause  death  or  into 
some  obscure  and  complex  region  where  it  may  result 
in  a  chronic  poisoning  of  the  patient  with  serious 
invalidism  or  injury  of  important  structures  and 
permanent  crippling.  A  simple  incision  by  the 


266  CHARACTER  FORMATION- 

surgeon  may  obviate  all  this  danger,  permit  the  pus 
a  safe  outlet  and  so  direct  the  forces  of  repair  into 
channels  that  lead  to  a  prompt  and  real  recovery. 

Suppose  that  with  one  of  Pawlow's  dogs  it  was 
found  that  the  ringing  of  the  bell  had  become  asso- 
ciated with  a  motor  response  that  carried  the  dog 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound  came  and  that 
a  ringing  bell  in  a  nearby  mill  might  easily  lead  it 
to  a  place  of  danger  and  possible  death.  It  would 
be  comparatively  easy  to  re-educate  the  dog  by  de- 
stroying that  association  and  if  necessary  building 
up  a  new  one. 

Uncontrolled  and  left  to  chance  the  symbolic  rep- 
resentations may  easily  be  combined  in  patterns  that 
are  far  from  desirable  and  far  from  the  most  effec- 
tive ones  that  might  have  been  utilised.  Under 
guidance  and  by  intelligent  education  and  re-educa- 
tion, however,  their  capacity  for  harm  may  easily 
be  lessened  as  the  energy  bound  up  in  the  symbols 
(Chapter  V)  is  made  available  for  more  constructive 
ends. 

Aside,  however,  from  the  therapeutic  attack  upon 
actual  situations  of  mal-adjustment  this  concept  is 
of  value  in  getting  at  the  inner  meaning  of  symptoms 
bodily  as  well  as  mental.  Under  its  guidance  we  are 
inquiring  for  the  first  time  into  the  meaning  of  some 
diseases  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  strivings  of 
the  individual  as  a  biological  unit.  Can  we,  for 
example,  express  certain  diseases  in  terms  of  partial 
libido  strivings  in  the  sense  set  forth  in  Chapter 
IX?  Can  a  carcinoma  of  the  stomach  be  understood 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  267 

in  terms  of  nutritional  libido?  A  rectal  tabetic 
crisis  in  terms  of  anal  erotic?  a  pulmonary  tubercu- 
losis in  terms  of  respiratory  libido?  A  tremor  in 
terms  of  muscle  libido?  And  so  on  throughout  the 
whole  category.  Such  questions  as  these  can  hardly 
be  more  than  asked  at  this  time.  If  we  pick  up  an 
average  book  on  the  practice  of  medicine  we  find 
almost  nothing  regarding  the  characteristics  of  the 
psyche  in  the  different  diseases  except  those  that 
are  obviously  of  nervous  origin.  We  find  the  pa- 
thology and  physical  signs  stressed  in  the  description 
but  the  psyche  is  largely  left  out  of  account.  Of 
course  in  a  disease  like  exophthalmic  goitre  the 
mental  state  is  generally  described  in  some  detail, 
although  superficially,  but  in  as  important  and  wide- 
spread a  disease  as  pulmonary  tuberculosis  the  men- 
tal state,  is,  in  general,  not  even  referred  to. 

In  approaching  this  problem  it  is  important  to  get 
rid  of  a  bugaboo  quite  as  sterilising  in  its  effects  as 
the  theory  of  psycho-physical  parallelism — the  com- 
plete separation  of  mind  and  body,  as  if  they  were 
two  absolutely  different  sets  of  phenomena  unrelated 
in  any  way  whatever  (see  Chapter  V).  This  bug- 
aboo is  the  belief  that  we  must  not  use  terms,  con- 
cepts that  belong  to  one  scientific  discipline  to 
explain  phenomena  in  another  discipline.  In  general 
I  have  already  dealt  with  this  question  in  Chapter  V 
where  I  have  briefly  discussed  reasoning  by  analogy 
and  there  shown  that  reasoning  by  analogy  is  not 
only  a  legitimate  form  of  reasoning  but  it  is  the 
basis  of  all  reasoning.  To  carry  this  bugaboo  to  its 


268  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

logical  conclusion  would  mean  to  split  phenomena 
up  into  an  infinite  number  of  compartments,  ulti- 
mately as  many  as  there  are  phenomena,  which 
would  be  as  mutually  exclusive  as  mind  and  body  are 
often  thought  to  be  and  would  thus  render  progress 
impossible.  Without  comparison  and  classification 
we  would  indeed  be  in  a  sorry  plight  and  analogy  is 
at  the  basis  of  both. 

Aside  from  this  argument  the  use  of  terms  which 
have  meaning,  in  the  psychological  sense,  as  applied 
to  physiological  reactions,  for  instance,  is  peculiarly 
justified  in  that  such  terms  define  the  tendencies  of 
the  reactions  so  far  as  they  have  reference  to  the 
entire  individual — the  ends  of  the  individual  as  such. 
For  instance,  is  it  not  possible  to  think  of  pulmonary 
tuberculosis  in  terms  of  partial  libido  strivings  T  In 
this  case  of  the  strivings  of  the  respiratory  libido. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  the  strivings  of  the  indi- 
vidual— the  answer  to  the  question,  Where  is  the 
individual  trying  to  go?  May  not  this  disease  rep- 
resent an  inability  of  the  individual  to  use  his  res- 
piratory libido  to  serve  these  larger  ends  I  In  other 
words,  so  far  as  his  respiratory  libido  goes  he  is 
unable  to  get  adequate  expression  through  it;  this 
particular  channel  of  expression  is  obstructed.  In 
the  striving  for  power  the  respiratory  libido  has,  so 
to  speak,  been  selfish,  wrapt  up  in  its  own  selfish 
ends,  and  has  not  been  able  to  serve  the  individual 
as  a  whole.  It  is  again  the  old  story  of  self-preserva- 
tion versus  race  preservation  or  in  this  case  the 
preservation  of  the  community ;  that  is,  the  commun- 


ORGAN  INFERIORITY  269 

ity  of  partial  libido  trends  which  comprise  the  in- 
dividual whose  salvation  depends  upon  each  tend- 
ency being  willing  to  sacrifice  some  of  its  self-seek- 
ing for  the  good  of  the  group. 

The  same  way  of  thinking  may  be  applied  to  other 
diseases — gastric  carcinoma,  nephritis,  arterio-scle- 
rosis,  etc.  Is  cerebral  arterio-sclerosis,  for  instance, 
a  setting  of  the  tissues  which  makes  further  develop- 
ment impossible,  or  is  it  a  tissue  response  to  stop- 
page of  development,  a  crystallisation  of  the  ways 
of  thinking! 

These  are  fascinating  ways  of  looking  at  the 
problems  and  at  least  emphasise  the  necessity  for 
a  more  thorough  study  of  the  psyche  in  so-called 
organic  diseases  for  the  purpose,  at  least,  of  dis- 
covering how  these  various  organic  defects  receive 
their  symbolic  representation  at  that  level. 

There  then  remains,  of  course,  the  problem  of 
social  psychology  which  must  work  all  the  material 
over  again  at  the  still  higher,  social  level. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT 

We  have  seen  (Chapter  IV)  that  the  broadest 
statement  of  the  conflict  is  that  of  the  theorem  of 
Le  Chatelier  which  states  in  general,  that  a  system 
tends  to  change  so  as  to  minimise  an  external  dis- 
turbance, and  I  have  given  many  illustrations  of 
this  law.  In  this  chapter  it  is  not  my  intention  to 
discuss  the  conflict  from  the  point  of  view  of  thera- 
peutics but  only  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
mechanisms  and  their  meanings  which  enter  into  its 
resolution. 

In  Chapters  II  and  IV  I  have  tried  to  show,  not 
only  how  conflict  was  at  the  basis  of  life,  but  how 
consciousness  itself  was  an  expression  of  conflict  and 
how  integration  and  adjustment  were  effected  by  the 
solution  of  conflicts,  which  solutions  were  then  made 
the  basis  for  new  conflicts  and  new  solutions  in  the 
process  of  integrations  and  adjustments  at  a  higher 
level.  And  in  Chapter  V  I  showed  how,  at  the  psy- 
chological level,  the  symbol  was  utilised  as  the  energy 
carrier  from  one  level  to  the  next  higher  level  in 
this  process.  I  wish  now  to  inquire  somewhat  more 
in  detail  into  the  mechanisms  involved. 

In  approaching  this  problem  the  first  thing  that 

270 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  271 

must  be  clearly  realised  is  that,  speaking  in  terms  of 
the  libido,  the  libido  has  only  two  pathways  open 
for  it  and  these  pathways  lead  in  diametrically  oppo- 
site directions.  One  leads  forward  and  upward,  it 
is  the  pathway  of  constructive  tendencies ;  the  other 
leads  backward  and  downward,  it  is  the  pathway  of 
destructive  tendencies.  The  former  leads  to  fulfil- 
ment, life,  immortality ;  the  latter  to  dissatisfaction, 
failure,  death. 

These  directions  are  to  be  understood  only  as 
tendencies,  the  goal  of  immortality  leads  by  the  way 
of  development,  progress,  evolution  and  is  expressed 
by  the  conservation  of  personal  life  by  means  of 
health  and  the  prolongation  of  personal  life  in  chil- 
dren and  of  personal  influence  as  expressed  in  a 
material  way  through  the  passing  on  of  our  personal 
qualities  by  way  of  the  germ  plasm  or  our  spiritual 
tendencies  by  way  of  our  works  in  our  influence  upon 
those  about  us,  upon  our  own  times,  and  upon  the 
future  by  the  record  of  our  achievements  that  sur- 
vive our  individual  existence.  The  death  goal  is  by 
the  way  of  the  path  of  regression,  the  retracing  of 
the  path  by  which  we  have  come,  and  leads  to  failure 
in  the  conservation  of  our  individual  existence,  ill- 
ness, invalidism  (physical  and  mental)  and  to  failure 
to  hand  on  our  influence  either  by  way  of  the  germ 
plasm  or  spiritually  as  a  result  of  our  works.  These 
are  the  two  pathways  represented  on  the  one  hand 
by  the  drag  back  of  our  unconscious  instinctive  tend- 
encies and  on  the  other  by  those  tendencies  sub- 
limated and  applied  to  constructive  conscious  ends, 


272  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  ambivalent  goals  of  which  are  death  and  life 
motived  respectively  by  fear  and  desire. 

This  is  the  conflict,  the  path  of  opposites,  along 
which  somewhere,  specific  tendencies  clash  and  cause 
that  splitting  of  the  psyche,  so  clearly  seen  in  psy- 
chotics,  which  divides  the  energies  of  the  individual 
and  leaves  him  torn  and  broken  upon  the  rocks  of 
indecision,  with  his  consciousness  raised  to  an  acute- 
ness  which  is  painful  (fear,  anxiety)  in  its  terrific 
efforts  to  effect  an  adjustment.  In  this  sense  con- 
sciousness is  remedial  in  the  sense  of  Hall x  who  says : 
"In  a  large  and  pregnant  sense  consciousness  itself 
is  compensation,  and  is  the  psychic  aspect  of  a  deeper 
biologic  law.  In  geniuses  and  in  neurotics,  it  comes 
more  to  the  surface.  Berger's  story  of  a  born 
criminal  who  became  a  judge  and  was  noted  for  his 
Draconian  severity  but  who  lapsed  to  crime  and 
committed  suicide,  leaving  a  confessional  autobiog- 
raphy, is  typical  of  one  aspect  of  it.  The  work  of 
great  artists  is  often  a  complement  of  their  lives, 
expressing  in  most  ideal  form  what  they  most  lack. 
If  the  heart,  digestive  processes,  lungs,  muscles,  are 
weak  or  go  wrong,  they  come  into  consciousness,  and 
curative  agencies  are  initiated.  Pain  is  a  cry  of  the 
lower,  older  parts  and  functions  of  our  organism  to 
the  higher  nervous  system  for  help.  Paranoiacs 
tending  to  delusions  of  greatness  and  hyper-self-feel- 
ing are  often  over-polite  to  others.  The  sense  of  de- 
fect prompts  training  and  education  to  cure  and  also 

iHall,    G.   S.:     A   Synthetic   Genetic   Study   of   Fear.    Chap.   I. 
Am.  Jour.  Psych.    Ap.,  1914.    All  italics  mine. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  273 

countless  devices  to  hide  them.  Culture  corrects  the 
errors  of  instinct  and  dress  hides  deformities.  Thus 
nurture  supplements  nature,  and  environment  has 
to  rectify  heredity.  These  processes  constitute  con- 
sciousness, which  is  always  more  or  less  remedial. 
Taine  conceived  it  as  a  mutual  repression  of  oppo- 
site impulses  and  tendencies,  any  of  .which  if  not 
checked  would  develop  into  insane  intensity,  and  he 
deemed  the  neuroses  as  only  the  most  intense  form 
of  it.  Where  these  integrating  and  compensating 
processes  have  more  than  they  can  do  and  break 
down,  whether  from  strain  of  outer  circumstances 
or  because  they  find  inner  resistances  too  great,  so 
that  the  power  to  rectify  and  adjust  is  exhausted, 
abatement  of  the  life  impulse  is  felt,  and  this  sense 
of  abatement  is  anxiety,  diffuse  or  acute.  It  is  the 
bi-polar  opposite  of  the  pleroma  of  life  abounding, 
which  all  crave.  From  this  point  of  view,  then, 
consciousness  itself  i$  inr.i.pi.p.ni  anxiety.  .  .  .  The 
summum  genus  of  fear  thus  is  a  sense  of  the  inability 
to  cope  with  Me,  a  dread  of  being  vanquished  and 
Hecoming  not  victors  in  its  battle,  a  sense  of  limita- 
tion and  of  inferiority  in  our  power  to  achigyethe 

and    Tiappinpqg;    a     fopling    fhqf, 


hereditary  niojnPTifnrn  was.  originally  i  11  snffipj  flint  nr 
is  in  danger  of  beinff  reduced.  We  would  do,  be, 
get  all  that  is  possible  for  man's  estate,  attain  the 
fullest  macrobiotic  development,  and  fear  and  shock 
are  intimations  that  we  fall  short,  are  less  than  we 
might,  could  or  should  be.  This  excelsior  impulsion 
encounters  obstacles  and  suffers  arrest,  and  desire, 


274  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ambition,  possibilities,  may  fail.  Hence  pain  and 
its  anticipation,  fear,  and  their  diaphrenic  opposites, 
pleasure  and  hope,  play  a  great  role  in  the  evolution 
of  affective  life,  not  without  analogies  to  that  as- 
signed to  nothing  and  being  in  the  Hegelian  logic. 
The  thesis,  anti-thesis  and  synthesis  of  the  one  are 
the  basis  of  an  affective,  and  those  of  the  other  of  a 
rational,  dialetic  system.  Hope  and  fear  have  had 
very  much  to  do  in  shaping  not  only  habits,  instincts 
and  probably  structure  itself,  but  in  making  mental 
and  nervous  disease  or  health.  Indeed  from  the 
genetic  standpoint  they  are  the  creators  of  conscious- 
ness itself,  from  its  lowest  to  its  highest  form.'* 

It  follows  from  all  this  that  the  symbolisation  of 
the  conflict,  either  in  the  dream  or  in  the  symptoms 
of  the  neurosis  or  psychosis,  will  contain  elements 
representative  of  both  factors,  and  also  that  no  solu- 
tion of  the  conflict  can  come  about  except  by  the 
satisfaction  of  both  of  these  diametrically  opposed 
tendencies.  It  follows,  too,  that  no  conflict  can  be 
solved  at  the  level  of  the  conflict.  That  is,  two 
mutually  opposed  tendencies  can  never  unite  their 
forces  except  at  a  higher  level,  in  an  all  inclusive 
synthesis  which  lifts  the  whole  situation  to  a  level 
above  that  upon  which  the  conflict  arose.  The 
formula  is  Hegelian  and  would  read  something  like 
this  thesis,  anti-thesis,  synthesis.  To  illustrate: 

Let  us  go  back  to  the  dream  of  the  young  man 
(Chapter  VI)  who  dreamt  that  he  stood  beside  a 
casket  in  which  lay  his  grandfather 's  body  and  that 
while  he  stood  there  the  body  moved;  it  seemed  to 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  275 

be  ill  at  ease.  My  interpretation  of  that  dream  was 
that  the  grandfather  represented  the  young  man's 
ideal  and  that  his  ideal  was  dead  but  it  did  not  rest 
comfortably  in  death,  it  was  uneasy  and  would  be 
up  and  doing.  The  dream  might  be  interpreted  as 
a  regressive  wish-fulfilling  structure  by  way  of  the 
"reversed  parentage'*  phantasy  (Chapter  VII). 
But  a  moment's  consideration  shows  this  can  not  be 
all.  The  grandfather  is  uneasy,  he  does  not  rest  in 
death.  If  then  we  will  assume  that  the  body  of  the 
grandfather  represents  the  dreamer  we  see  the  ambi- 
valent tendencies  both  expressed.  The  desire  to 
regress,  to  follow  the  path  of  idleness,  of  the  uncon- 
scious longings  that  lead  to  death  through  identifica- 
tion with  the  grandfather  (long  since  dead)  based 
upon  an  infantile  incestuous  phantasy — identifica- 
tion with  the  grandfather  is  only  a  distortion  cloaking 
a  desire  to  be  in  place  of  the  father — is  represented 
by  the  dead  body.  But  then  the  body  stirs  and  is  un- 
easy. This  is  the  opposite  tendency,  the  desire  to  be 
on  the  road  of  progress,  to  be  active  and  constructive. 
Later  on  this  young  man  was  very  much  better 
and  happier  as  a  result  of  going  into  business  and 
being  quite  successful.  His  grandfather  had  been 
a  successful  man  so  he  reaches  a  solution  of  his 
conflict  by  success  in  business  thus  identifying  him- 
self with  his  grandfather  but  not  having  to  die,  or 
at  least  to  keep  upon  the  road  that  leads  to  death, 
in  order  to  do  so.  So  we  see  the  two  opposed  tend- 
encies, the  desire  to  identify  himself  with  the 
grandfather  (death)  and  the  desire  for  constructive 


276  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

living  (life)  come  to  expression  in  the  final  syn- 
thesis, the  solution  of  the  conflict,  a  successful  busi- 
ness career  like  the  grandfather. 

Leaving  this  aspect  of  the  problem  for  the  present, 
to  return  to  it  later,  I  want  to  take  up  at  this  point 
certain  tendencies  of  the  different  movements  in  the 
psychoanalytic  field  to  further  illustrate  ways  of 
looking  at  the  problem  of  the  conflict. 

The  original  method  by  which  the  conflict  was 
dealt  with  therapeutically,  and  the  still  most  impor- 
tant feature  of  its  therapeutic  handling,  was  to  get' 
the  unconscious  factor  into  consciousness.  So  long 
as  the  unconscious  factor  remains  unconscious  the 
conflict  continues  with  no  power  to  bring  matters  to 
a  satisfactory  conclusion.  The  patient,  the  host  of 
the  conflict,  is  in  a  position  similar  to  a  soldier  in 
the  trenches  being  shot  at  by  a  sharp-shooter  using 
smokeless  powder.  He  is  conscious  of  the  impact 
of  the  bullets  about  him  and  of  his  danger  but  he 
doesn't  know  what  to  do  about  it,  he  doesn't  know 
which  way  to  turn,  he  is  as  apt  to  move  in  the  wrong 
as  in  the  right  direction.  Just  so  soon  as  he  can 
learn  the  location  of  the  sharp-shooter  it  will  be  a 
relatively  simple  matter  to  move  around  a  bend  in 
the  trench  and  get  out  of  range  but  until  he  learns 
this  he  is  helpless.  And  so  the  first  effort  is  to  help 
the  patient  learn  this,  to  help  him  get  the  unconscious 
factor  into  consciousness. 

The  way  in  which  the  scheme  works  in  bringing 
about  a  resolution  of  the  conflict  is  well  illustrated 
in  the  following  story:  A  group  of  college  profes- 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  277 

sors  have  just  entered  the  physical  laboratory  and 
are  engaged  in  conversation  when  one  of  them  notices 
that  a  bowl  standing  on  a  table  by  the  window,  half 
exposed  to  the  sunlight  and  half  in  shadow,  is  warm 
on  the  side  in  shadow  while  the  side  in  the  sunlight 
is  cool.  He  calls  the  attention  of  his  confreres  to 
this  phenomenon  whereupon  a  wordy  discussion  im- 
mediately ensues  which  waxes  warmer  and  warmer 
as  each  participant  insists  upon  being  heard  and 
expressing  his  explanation.  Meanwhile  the  janitor, 
who  has  been  standing  by,  trying  to  get  an  opportun- 
ity to  speak,  finally  sees  his  chance  and  injects  into 
the  discussion  the  statement  that  just  before  they  en- 
tered the  room  he  had  turned  the  bowl  about.  The 
effect  is  magical.  The  loud  words,  the  antagonisms, 
all  disappear.  The  phenomenon  has  been  explained, 
there  is  no  longer  any  occasion  for  a  conflict. 

The  Adlerian  point  of  view  does  not  tend  to  ex- 
planation so  simple.  His  concept  of  organ  inferior- 
ity stresses  compensation.  The  goal  of  all  our 
striving  is  for  complete  masculinity  and  our  striving 
is  determined  in  its  direction  by  the  particular  organ 
inferiority  from  which  we  may  happen  to  suffer  and 
which  gives  us  a  sense  of  inferiority.  It  is  this 
feeling  of  inferiority  which  we  are  constantly  trying 
to  overcome  and  it  can  only  be  overcome  by  succeed- 
ing in  compensating  for  the  organ  inferiority  which 
is  at  its  basis.  Depending  therefore  on  the  particu- 
lar nature  of  the  inferiority  is  the  resulting  effort 
at  compensation  and  therein  lies  the  origin  of  char- 
acter traits. 


278  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

The  neurosis,  from  the  Adlerian  viewpoint,  de- 
pends upon  a  feeling  of  inferiority  in  the  face  of 
reality,  which  cannot  be  overcome,  so  the  individual 
runs  away  from  reality,  runs  to  cover,  takes  a  flight 
into  a  neurosis  or  psychosis  perhaps,  in  response  to 
his  Sicherungstendenz,  his  effort  to  secure  safety. 

This  can  be  seen  to  be  just  another  way  of  express- 
ing the  desire  to  recover  the  lost  omnipotence  except 
that  it  is  based  upon  an  organ  inferiority  concept. 
On  the  contrary  the  will  to  power  is  expressed  by 
the  Aggressionstrieb,  the  tendency  to  overcome. 

What  shall  we  say  of  this  organ  inferiority  as  the 
basis  of  the  conflict  ?  Can  it  be  true  that  all  growth, 
all  development  comes  from  the  expenditure  of  effort 
in  trying  to  overcome  some  defect?  In  this  sense 
does  all  strength  have  its  origin  in  weakness  I  And 
if  so  should  we  not  rather  welcome  suffering  because 
only  through  trials  that  tax  us  to  our  limit  can  the 
full  of  our  powers  come  to  fruition.  As  Schopen- 
hauer expresses  it : 2 

"He  who  through  such  considerations  has  realised 
how  necessary  to  our  salvation,  sorrow  and  suffer- 
ing mostly  are;  he  will  recognise  that  we  should 
envy  others  not  so  much  on  account  of  their  happi- 
ness as  of  their  unhappiness. " 

Of  course  in  a  certain  sense  our  strength  does 
come  from  our  weaknesses,  that  is  by  overcoming 
our  weaknesses.  Consciousness  itself  we  have  seen 
is  an  expression  of  conflict  and  if  the  conflict  issues 

2  Schopenhauer,  A. :  "Essays."  Contributions  to  the  Doctrine  of 
the  Affirmation  and  Negation  of  the  Will-to-Live. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  279 

in  success,  that  is  if  the  energy  which  is  split  and 
flowing  in  two  directions  can  be  freed  in  a  higher 
synthesis  for  constructive  ends  it  is  only  as  the 
result  of  overcoming,  supplanting  by  sublimation  of 
those  restraining,  back-dragging  lower  instincts  rep- 
resented by  the  unconscious  factor  of  the  conflict. 

If  as  Aristotle  says,3  "to  be  happy  means  to  be 
self-sufficient"  then  the  possibility  of  attaining  such 
an  end  can  only  mean,  in  terms  of  the  psychological 
conflict,  to  be  capable  of  sublimation.  The  capacity 
for  sublimation  may  well  depend,  in  the  sense  of 
Adler,  in  the  last  analysis,  upon  the  degree  of  organ 
inferiority  which  is  at  the  basis  of  the  conflict.  Thus 
a  man  whose  organs  are  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
normal,  will  be  free,  while  the  man  with  marked 
organ  inferiority  will  be  crippled  in  proportion  to 
that  inferiority,  the  organ  defect,  however,  serving 
to  call  forth  his  most  strenuous  efforts  in  his  at- 
tempts to  overcome  it  and  therefore  serving  to  bring 
out  the  best  that  is  in  him. 

So  much  for  the  illustration  of  the  fact  that  the 
symbolisation  of  the  conflict  must  contain  elements 
representative  of  both  factors.  From  this  necessity 
there  arises  the  bi-polarity  of  symbols,  that  is,  the 
representation  of  both  elements  of  the  conflict  by  the 
same  symbol. 

In  the  dream  of  the  young  man  standing  by  the 
casket  containing  his  grandfather:  the  body  of  the 
grandfather  represents  death,  that  is  the  uncon- 
scious factor  in  the  conflict  that  drags  back  and 

3  Cited  by  Schopenhauer:     "The  Wisdom  of  Life." 


280  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

destroys  efficiency;  but  the  grandfather  also  repre- 
sents life  for  he  stirs  and  this  is  the  conscious  ele- 
ment of  the  conflict  that  would  force  the  young  man 
along  the  path  of  usefulness.  As  pointed  out  in  the 
chapter  on  symbolism,  it  is  because  of  this  capacity 
the  symbol  has  to  fit  the  situation  in  which  it  is 
needed  that  it  is  the  energy  bearer  par  excellence. 
If  the  same  symbol  can  be  used  to  express  both  ambi- 
valent terms  of  the  conflict  then  it  would  seem  that 
the  energy  was  more  available  for  either.  Of  course 
this  makes  the  situation  more  dangerous  but  cor- 
respondingly it  also  fills  it  with  greater  hope. 

The  enormous  amount  of  energy  which  the  symbol 
carries,  and  which  is  therefore  available  for  sub- 
limation— resolution  of  the  conflict — is  also  seen  in 
the  fact  that  the  symbol  always  stands  for  the 
dreamer  himself,  or  more  accurately,  that  part  of 
the  dreamer  which  the  symbol  brings  forward  for 
review.  So,  the  body  of  the  grandfather,  in  the 
dream  in  question,  is  the  dreamer,  or  more  accu- 
rately, that  portion  of  the  dreamer  which  it,  as  a 
symbol,  represents.  The  grandfather,  it  will  be 
remembered,  was  the  dreamer's  ideal  man.  In  other 
words,  the  grandfather  is  the  ideal  of  the  dreamer 
and  as  such  is  dead  but  would  live  again.  This  is 
plainly  the  wish  of  the  dream. 

Similarly,  a  young  woman  dreams  that  she  is 
chased  by  a  horrible,  beastly  looking  man  who  does 
not  catch  her.  The  man,  by  association,  turns  out 
to  be  her  husband  whom  she  does  not  love,  who 
drinks,  and  whose  attitude  toward  her  has  never 


EESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  281 

risen  above  the  lust  level.  The  meaning  and  the 
wish  of  the  dream  seem  clear  but  when  we  conclude 
that  she  wishes  to  get  away  from  her  husband  we 
have  only  touched  one-half  the  problem  and  that 
half  about  which  the  dreamer  is  fully  conscious. 
The  other  side  of  the  situation  is  that  unconsciously 
she  recognises  her  own  longings  as  having  something 
of  the  element  of  the  untamed  and  the  animal  in 
them  and  she  aspires  to  escape  these  destructive 
elements  in  herself. 

Both  of  these  elements  in  the  symbolic  representa- 
tion of  the  conflict,  which  are  so  important  in  the 
energetics  of  its  resolution,  namely,  the  use  of  the 
same  symbol  to  represent  both  ambivalent  factors 
and  the  fact  that  the  symbol  represents  that  portion 
of  the  percipient  which  is  brought  forward  for  re- 
view, are  well  illustrated  in  an  ancient  dream  of 
Alexander.  While  Alexander  was  encamped  outside 
the  city  of  Tyre  to  which  he  had  long  laid  unsuccess- 
ful siege  he  had  a  dream.  He  dreamt  that  he  saw  a 
Satyr  dancing  upon  a  shield.  Now  a  Satyr  is  a  demi- 
god of  the  country  while  the  shield  is  manifestly  a 
symbol  of  war.  It  therefore  seems  quite  reasonable 
to  see  in  the  dream  a  desire  on  the  part  of  the  king, 
who  had  become  tired  of  this  prolonged  siege,  to  re- 
turn to  the  quiet  and  rest  of  peace  and  forego  further 
warlike  operations.  The  dream  seems  to  mean  the 
triumph  of  peace  over  war.  The  dream  interpreter 
who  was  called  to  explain  its  meaning,  however,  saw 
deeper.  Through  a  play  upon  words,  the  Greek  for 
satyr  being  satyros,  while  sa  Tyros  (<ra  Tvpo?)  means 


282  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

Tyre  is  thine.  Thus  the  king  could  only  get  the 
peace  he  wanted  by  doing  his  duty  and  pushing  the 
siege  to  a  successful  issue  which  he  proceeded  to  do. 
Therefore  peace  and  war  were  both  represented  by 
the  symbolism  and  also  that  part  of  the  dreamer 
which  both  wanted  to  retire  and  seek  rest  from  the 
conflict  and  that  part  which  wanted  to  go  forward 
and  succeed. 

The  next  aspect  of  the  energetics  of  the  conflict 
that  is  important  to  understand  is  the  regressive 
tendency  of  its  symbolisation. 

This  aspect  of  the  conflict  can  be  introduced  by 
telling  briefly  the  story  of  a  case  communicated  to 
me  by  Dr.  Gregory.  The  patient  was  a  young  girl 
who  lived  in  the  country  not  far  from  New  York 
City.  Financial  straits  of  the  family  made  it  incum- 
bent upon  her  to  leave  her  home  in  the  country  and 
betake  herself  to  New  York  to  earn  a  livelihood. 
Upon  the  eve  of  her  departure  her  parents,  solicitous 
for  her  safety,  warned  her  against  the  lures  of  the 
great  city.  They  told  her  to  be  careful  and  not  to 
be  deceived  by  suave  strangers  who  might  approach 
her,  and  by  no  means  ever  to  permit  herself  to 
yield  to  an  invitation  to  take  any  alcohol,  and  they 
told  her  about  knock-out  drops ;  if  she  needed  infor- 
mation to  ask  an  official,  a  policeman — never  a 
stranger.  This  was  the  time,  too,  when  the  papers 
were  filled  with  accounts  of  the  exposures  in  the 
white  slave  traffic,  and  she  had  read  of  these. 

Shortly  after  her  arrival  in  New  York  she  was 
able  to  secure  a  position  at  a  salary  of  $15  per  week, 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  283 

got  a  boarding  place,  and  everything  went  well. 
After  a  while,  however,  her  employer  came  to  her 
and  told  her  that  matters  had  not  been  going  well 
with  him  in  a  business  way  and  that  therefore  he 
would  be  forced  to  reduce  her  salary  to  $8  per  week. 
This  necessitated  a  readjustment  on  her  part,  and 
the  first  effort  that  she  made  was  to  see  if  she  could 
not  get  another  position  that  would  pay  her  as  well. 
This,  however,  she  was  unable  to  do  and  finally  had 
to  realise  that  she  must  go  on  at  the  reduced  com- 
pensation. This  required  that  she  should  cut  down 
expenses  and  live  cheaper.  To  that  end  she  secured 
a  room  in  a  cheaper  German  boarding  house  on  the 
East  Side. 

Hardly  had  she  settled  in  her  new  quarters  than 
one  evening  at  dinner  she  was  begged  to  have  a  glass 
of  beer;  the  boarders  being  German,  beer  was  com- 
monly served  at  the  table.  She  refused  and  resisted, 
but  finally  yielded  and  drank  a  little  beer.  While 
sitting  at  the  table  she  overheard  two  of  the  men 
opposite  talking,  and  one  said  to  the  other,  "I  think 
it  can  be  done  for  $50. "  This  alarmed  her  consider- 
ably, and  after  leaving  the  table  she  went  into  her 
room  and  shut  the  door  and  went  to  bed.  She  heard 
constantly,  however,  footsteps  about  the  house,  and 
she  felt  convinced  that  something  wrong  was  going 
on;  that  evil  designs  were  in  the  minds  of  some  of 
the  boarders,  and  that  they  were  preparing  to  invade 
her  in  her  room.  About  this  time,  too,  the  little 
beer  that  she  had  drunk  disagreed  with  her,  made 
her  stomach  feel  bad,  and  she  was  afraid  that  it  had 


284  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

been  doped.  She  became  more  and  more  frightened, 
and  finally  arose,  put  on  her  things,  hastily  left  the 
house  and  sought  a  physician.  He  made  some  exam- 
ination of  her  and  looked  at  her  tongue,  and  then, 
according  to  her  story,  said  that  he  thought  she  had 
been  poisoned.  This  was  the  last  stroke.  She 
rushed  from  the  physician's  office,  shrieking  into  the 
street,  and  was  shortly  taken  up  by  a  policeman  and 
sent  to  the  Bellevue  Pavilion.  Here  she  was  in  a 
wild  state  of  excitement,  absolutely  inaccessible  for 
two  or  three  days,  and  then  finding  that  her  environ- 
ment was  a  friendly  one,  that  they  were  trying  to 
do  things  for  her  and  not  to  injure  her,  she  gradually 
calmed  down,  and  at  the  end  of  approximately  three 
days  she  had  quite  recovered  from  the  episode,  had 
full  insight,  and  could  leave  the  hospital. 

We  are  dealing  here  quite  evidently  with  an 
hysteriform  episode  of  very  acute  onset  and  rapid 
subsidence,  but  how  are  we  to  explain,  to  understand, 
the  symptoms?  I  have  cited  the  case  because  it 
would  seem  that  here  we  have  quite  a  simple  illus- 
tration of  the  general  concept  of  regression. 

In  order  to  understand  the  mechanisms  here  in- 
volved we  must  realise  first  that  this  girl  had  had 
certain  warnings  from  her  parents  on  starting  for 
New  York.  These  warnings  had  been  received, 
understood  at  the  time,  and  then  practically  at  least, 
laid  aside  and  forgotten  after  she  had  arrived  in  the 
city  and  adjusted  herself  to  the  new  conditions, 
secured  employment  and  settled  down  in  the  new 
relations.  Now  a  difficulty  arises;  she  has  to  make 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  285 

a  complete  readjustment  which  involves  a  consider- 
able sacrifice  of  her  comfort,  and  this  is  a  difficult 
thing  to  do.  In  her  attempt  to  deal  efficiently  with 
reality  she  is  not  successful  altogether.  Now  the 
interesting  thing  about  her  lack  of  success  in  dealing 
with  the  problem  of  her  new  adjustment  shows  itself 
by  a  psychosis  that  is  easily  seen  to  be  nothing  more 
than  a  realisation,  a  coming  to  life,  as  it  were,  of 
all  the  possibilities  suggested  by  her  parents'  warn- 
ings. How  can  we  understand  this  reanimation  and 
reactivating  of  things  which  have  gone  before  and 
been  left  behind? 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  psychosis  can  be  under- 
stood if  we  first  postulate  a  form  of  psycho-physical 
energy  which  has  the  capacity  under  certain  circum- 
stances of  flowing  back,  as  it  were,  and  re-animating 
old  experiences.  This  is  the  theory  of  the  introver- 
sion of  the  libido.  An  elaboration  of  the  theory  is 
to  the  effect  that  the  individual  is  constructive, 
creative,  mentally  healthy,  so  long  as  this  energy  is 
flowing  outward  in  interest  upon  the  external  world 
of  reality;  that  when  it  flows  backward  within  the 
individual  himself,  then  disorder  of  mind  is  the 
result.  The  occasion  for  a  flowing  backward  of  the 
energy  or  an  introversion,  as  it  is  called,  is  some 
difficulty  met  with  in  effectively  dealing  with  reality ; 
a  difficulty  arises  and  adjustment  is  impossible;  the 
flow  of  the  energy  outward  is  impeded ;  it  is  dammed 
up,  and  it  flows  backward.  In  this  way  old  channels 
are  reanimated  as  in  the  case  cited.  The  path  along 
which  the  libido  has  come  is  the  path  along  which  it 


286  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

flows  again  when,  for  any  reason,  it  meets  with 
an  obstacle  which  cannot  be  overcome.  The  intro- 
verted regressive  libido  reanimates  the  old  path- 
ways. 

The  same  thing  is  well  shown  by  Jung  in  the  case 
cited  by  him  in  his  Fordham  lectures.4  I  will  cite 
the  case  as  he  describes  it.  In  its  opening  sentences 
it  shows  well  the  way  of  putting  the  symptoms  from 
a  purely  psychological  viewpoint  as  contrasted  with 
the  viewpoint  of  organ  inferiority. 

"No  neurosis  will  grow  on  an  unprepared  soil 
where  no  germ  of  neurosis  is  already  existing;  the 
trauma  will  pass  by  without  leaving  any  permanent 
and  effective  mark.  From  this  simple  consideration 
it  is  pretty  clear  that,  to  make  it  really  effective, 
the  patient  must  meet  the  shock  with  a  certain  in- 
ternal predisposition.  This  internal  predisposition 
is  not  to  be  understood  as  meaning  that  totally  ob- 
scure hereditary  predisposition  of  which  we  know  so 
little,  but  as  a  psychological  development  which 
reaches  its  apogee  and  its  manifestation  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  even  through,  the  trauma. 

"I  will  show  you  first  of  all  by  a  concrete  case  the 
nature  of  the  trauma  and  its  psychological  predispo- 
sition. A  young  lady  suffered  from  severe  hysteria 
after  a  sudden  fright.  She  had  been  attending  a 
social  gathering  that  evening  and  was  on  her  way 
home  at  midnight,  accompanied  by  several  acquaint- 
ances, when  a  carriage  came  behind  her  at  full  speed. 

4  Jung,  C.  G. :  The  Theory  of  Psychoanalysis.  Nerv.  and  Ment. 
Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  19. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  287 

Every  one  else  drew  aside,  but  she,  paralysed  with 
fright,  remained  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  ran 
just  in  front  of  the  horses.  The  coachman  cracked 
his  whip,  cursed  and  swore  without  any  result.  She 
ran  down  the  whole  length  of  the  street,  which  led 
to  a  bridge.  There  her  strength  failed  her,  and  to 
escape  the  horses'  feet  she  thought,  in  her  extreme 
despair,  of  jumping  into  the  water,  but  was  pre- 
vented in  time  by  passers-by.  This  very  same  lady 
happened  to  be  present  a  little  later  on  that  bloody 
day,  the  22nd  of  January,  in  St.  Petersburg,  when  a 
street  was  cleared  by  soldiers'  volleys.  Eight  and 
left  of  her  she  saw  people  dying  or  falling  down  badly 
wounded.  Eemaining  perfectly  calm  and  clear- 
minded,  she  caught  sight  of  a  gate  that  gave  her  es- 
cape into  another  street. 

"  These  terrible  moments  did  not  agitate  her, 
either  at  the  time,  or  later  on.  Whence  it  must  fol- 
low that  the  intensity  of  the  trauma  is  of  small 
pathogenic  importance;  the  special  conditions  form 
the  essential  factors.  Here,  then,  we  have  the  key 
by  which  we  are  able  to  unlock  at  least  one  of  the 
anterooms  to  the  understanding  of  predisposition. 
We  must  next  ask  what  were  the  special  circum- 
stances in  this  carriage-scene.  The  terror  and  ap- 
prehension began  as  soon  as  the  lady  heard  the 
horses'  footsteps.  It  seemed  to  her  for  a  moment 
as  if  these  betokened  some  terrible  fate,  portending 
her  death  or  something  dreadful.  Then  she  lost 
consciousness.  The  real  causation  is  somehow  con- 
nected with  the  horses.  The  predisposition  of  the 


288  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

patient,  who  acts  thus  wildly  at  such  a  common-place 
occurrence,  could  perhaps  be  found  in  the  fact  that 
horses  had  a  special  significance  for  her.  It  might 
suffice,  for  instance,  if  she  had  been  once  concerned 
in  some  dangerous  accident  with  horses.  This  as- 
sumption does  hold  good  here.  When  she  was  seven 
years  old,  she  was  once  out  on  a  carriage-drive  with 
the  coachman;  the  horses  shied  and  approached  the 
steep  river-bank  at  full  speed.  The  coachman 
jumped  off  his  seat,  and  shouted  to  her  to  do  the 
same,  which  she  was  barely  able  to  do,  as  she  was 
frightened  to  death.  Still,  she  sprang  down  at  the 
right  moment,  whilst  the  horses  and  carriage  were 
dashed  down  below. 

"It  is  unnecessary  to  prove  that  such  an  event 
must  leave  a  lasting  impression  behind.  But  still  it 
does  not  offer  any  explanation  for  the  exaggerated 
reaction  to  an  inadequate  stimulus.  Up  till  now  we 
only  know  that  this  later  symptom  had  its  prologue 
in  childhood,  but  the  pathological  side  remains  ob- 
scure. To  solve  this  enigma  we  require  other  experi- 
ences. The  amnesia  which  I  will  set  forth  fully 
later  on  shows  clearly  the  disproportion  between  the 
so-called  shock  and  the  part  played  by  phantasy. 
In  this  case  phantasy  must  predominate  to  an  ex- 
traordinary extent  to  provoke  such  an  effect.  The 
shock  in  itself  was  too  insignificant.  We  are  at  first 
inclined  to  explain  this  incident  by  the  shock  that 
took  place  in  childhood,  but  it  seems  to  me  with  little 
success.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  the  effect 
of  this  infantile  trauma  had  remained  latent  so  long, 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  289 

and  why  it  only  now  came  to  the  surface.  The 
patient  must  surely  have  had  opportunities  enough 
during  her  lifetime  of  getting  out  of  the  way  of  a 
carriage  going  full  speed.  The  reminiscence  of  the 
danger  to  her  life  seems  to  be  quite  insufficiently  ef- 
fective ;  the  real  danger  in  which  she  was  at  that  one 
moment  in  St.  Petersburg  did  not  produce  the  slight- 
est trace  of  neurosis,  despite  her  being  predisposed 
by  an  impressive  event  in  her  childhood.  The  whole 
of  this  traumatic  event  still  lacks  explanation ;  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  shock-theory  we  are  hope- 
lessly in  the  dark. 

"You  may  excuse  me  if  I  return  so  persistently 
to  the  shock-theory.  I  consider  this  necessary,  as 
now-a-days  many  people,  even  those  who  regard  us 
seriously,  still  keep  to  this  standpoint.  Thus  the 
opponents  to  psychoanalysis  and  those  who  never 
read  psychoanalytic  articles,  or  do  so  quite  super- 
ficially, get  the  impression  that  in  psychoanalysis 
the  old  shock-theory  is  still  in  force. 

*  *  The  question  arises :  what  are  we  to  understand 
by  this  predisposition,  through  which  an  insignificant 
event  produces  such  a  pathological  effect?  This  is 
the  question  of  chief  significance,  and  we  shall  find 
that  the  same  question  plays  an  important  role  in 
the  theory  of  neurosis,  for  we  have  to  understand 
why  apparently  irrelevant  events  of  the  past  are 
still  producing  such  effects  that  they  are  able  to 
interfere  in  an  impish  and  capricious  way  with  the 
normal  reactions  of  actual  life. 


290  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

"We  noticed  the  remarkable  fact  that  this  patient 
was  unaffected  by  situations  which  one  might  have 
expected  to  make  a  profound  impression  and  yet 
showed  an  unexpected  extreme  pathological  reaction 
to  a  quite  everyday  event.  We  took  this  occasion  to 
express  our  doubt  as  to  the  etiological  significance 
of  the  shock,  and  to  investigate  the  so-called  predis- 
position which  rendered  the  trauma  effective.  The 
result  of  that  investigation  led  us  to  what  has  just 
been  mentioned.  That  it  is  by  no  means  improbable 
that  the  origin  of  the  neurosis  is  due  to  a  retardation 
of  the  affective  development. 

"  You  will  now  ask  me  what  is  to  be  understood  by 
the  retardation  of  the  affectivity  of  this  hysteric. 
The  patient  lives  in  a  world  of  phantasy,  which  can 
only  be  regarded  as  infantile.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
give  a  description  of  these  phantasies,  for  you,  as 
neurologists  or  psychiatrists,  have  the  opportunity 
daily  to  listen  to  the  childish  prejudices,  illusions 
and  emotional  pretensions  to  which  neurotic  people 
give  way.  The  disinclination  to  face  stern  reality 
is  the  distinguishing  trait  of  these  phantasies — some 
lack  of  earnestness,  some  trifling,  which  sometimes 
hides  real  difficulties  in  a  light-hearted  manner,  at 
others  exaggerates  trifles  into  great  troubles.  We 
recognise  at  once  that  inadequate  psychic  attitude 
towards  reality  which  characterises  the  child,  its 
wavering  opinions  and  its  deficient  orientation  in 
matters  of  the  external  world.  With  such  an  in- 
fantile mental  disposition  all  kinds  of  desires,  phan- 
tasies and  illusions  can  grow  luxuriantly,  and  this 


RESOLUTION  OP  THE  CONFLICT  291 

we  have  to  regard  as  the  critical  causation.  Through 
such  phantasies  people  slip  into  an  unreal  attitude, 
pre-eminently  ill-adapted  to  the  world,  which  is 
bound  some  day  to  lead  to  a  catastrophe.  When  we 
trace  back  the  infantile  phantasy  of  the  patient  to 
her  earliest  childhood  we  find,  it  is  true,  many  dis- 
tinct, outstanding  scenes  which  might  well  serve  to 
provide  fresh  food  for  this  or  that  variation  in  phan- 
tasy, but  it  would  be  vain  to  search  for  the  so-called 
traumatic  motive,  whence  something  abnormal  might 
have  sprung,  such  an  abnormal  activity,  let  us  say, 
as  day-dreaming  itself.  There  are  certainly  to  be 
found  traumatic  scenes,  although  not  in  earliest 
childhood ;  the  few  scenes  of  earliest  childhood  which 
were  remembered  seem  not  to  be  traumatic,  being 
rather  accidental  events,  which  passed  by  without 
leaving  any  effect  on  her  phantasy  worth  mention- 
ing. The  earliest  phantasies  arose  out  of  all  sorts 
of  vague  and  only  partly  understood  impressions 
received  from  her  parents.  Many  peculiar  feelings 
centred  around  her  father,  vacillating  between 
anxiety,  horror,  aversion,  disgust,  love  and  enthu- 
siasm. The  case  was  like  so  many  other  cases  of 
hysteria,  where  no  traumatic  etiology  can  be  found, 
but  which  grows  from  the  roots  of  a  peculiar  and 
premature  activity  of  phantasy  which  maintains 
permanently  the  character  of  infantilism. 

''You  will  object  that  in  this  case  the  scene  with 
the  shying  horses  represents  the  trauma.  It  is 
clearly  the  model  of  that  night-scene  which  hap- 
pened nineteen  years  later,  where  the  patient  was 


292  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

incapable  of  avoiding  the  trotting  horses.  That  she 
wanted  to  plunge  into  the  river  has  an  analogy  in 
the  model  scene,  where  the  horses  and  carriage  fell 
into  the  river. 

"Since  the  latter  traumatic  moment  she  suffered 
from  hysterical  fits.  As  I  tried  to  show  you,  we 
do  not  find  any  trace  of  this  apparent  etiology  de- 
veloped in  the  course  of  her  phantasy  life.  It  seems 
as  if  the  danger  of  losing  her  life,  that  first  time, 
when  the  horses  shied,  passed  without  leaving  any 
emotional  trace.  None  of  the  events  that  occurred 
in  the  following  years  showed  any  trace  of  that 
fright.  In  parenthesis  let  me  add,  that  perhaps  it 
never  happened  at  all.5  It  may  have  even  been  a 
mere  phantasy,  for  I  have  only  the  assertions  of  the 
patient.  All  of  a  sudden,  some  eighteen  years  later, 
this  event  becomes  of  importance  and  is,  so  to  say, 
reproduced  and  carried  out  in  all  its  details.  This 
assumption  is  extremely  unlikely,  and  becomes  still 
more  inconceivable  if  we  also  bear  in  mind  that 
the  story  of  the  shying  horses  may  not  even  be  true. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  and  remains  almost  unthink- 
able that  an  affect  should  remain  buried  for  years 
and  then  suddenly  explode.  In  other  cases  there  is 
exactly  the  same  state  of  affairs.  I  know,  for  in- 
stance, of  a  case  in  which  the  shock  of  an  earth- 
quake, long  recovered  from,  suddenly  came  back  as 
a  lively  fear  of  earthquakes,  although  this  reminis- 

5  Italics  mine.  That  it  was  not  a  fact  in  the  ordinary  sense 
makes  no  difference.  It  was  a  psychological  fact  and  is  therefore  as 
worthy  of  scientific  treatment  as  any  other  category  of  fact. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  293 

cence  could  not  be  explained  by  the  external  circum- 
stances. 

"It  is  a  very  suspicious  circumstance  that  these 
patients  frequently  show  a  pronounced  tendency  to 
account  for  their  illnesses  by  some  long-past  event, 
ingeniously  withdrawing  the  attention  of  the  physi- 
cian from  the  present  moment  towards  some  false 
track  in  the  past.  This  false  track  was  the  first  one 
pursued  by  the  psychoanalytic  theory.  To  this  false 
hypothesis  we  owe  an  insight  into  the  understand- 
ing of  the  neurotic  symptoms  never  before  reached, 
an  insight  we  should  not  have  gained  if  the  investiga- 
tion had  not  chosen  this  path,  really  guided  thither, 
however,  by  the  misleading  tendencies  of  the  patient. 

"But  let  us  return  to  our  own  case.  The  follow- 
ing question  arises:  If  the  old  trauma  is  not  of 
etiological  significance,  then  the  cause  of  the  manifest 
neurosis  is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  retardation 
of  the  emotional  development.  We  must  therefore 
disregard  the  patient's  assertion  that  her  hysterical 
crises  date  from  the  fright  from  the  shying  horses, 
although  this  fright  was  in  fact  the  beginning  of 
her  evident  illness.  This  event  only  seems  to  be 
important,  although  it  is  not  so  in  reality.  This 
same  formula  is  valid  for  all  the  so-called  shocks. 
They  only  seem  to  be  important  because  they  are  at 
the  starting-point  of  the  external  expression  of  an 
abnormal  condition.  As  explained  in  detail,  this  ab- 
normal condition  is  an  anachronistic  continuation 
of  an  infantile  stage  of  libido-development.  These 


294  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

patients  still  retain  forms  of  the  libido  which  they 
ought  to  have  renounced  long  ago.  It  is  impossible 
to  give  a  list,  as  it  were,  of  these  forms,  for  they  are 
of  an  extraordinary  variety.  The  most  common, 
which  is  scarcely  ever  absent,  is  the  excessive  ac- 
tivity of  phantasies,  characterised  by  an  unconcerned 
exaggeration  of  subjective  wishes.  This  exagger- 
ated activity  is  always  a  sign  of  want  of  proper  em- 
ployment of  the  libido.  The  libido  sticks  fast  to  its 
use  in  phantasies,  instead  of  being  employed  in  a 
more  rigorous  adaptation  to  the  real  conditions  of 
life. 

"With  this  conception  of  Freud's  we  have  to  re- 
turn to  the  question  of  the  etiology  of  the  neuroses. 
We  have  seen  that  the  psychoanalytic  theory  began 
with  a  traumatic  event  in  childhood,  which  was  only 
later  on  found  to  be  a  phantasy,  at  least  in  many 
cases.  In  consequence,  the  theory  became  modified, 
and  tried  to  find  in  the  development  of  abnormal 
phantasy  the  main  etiological  significance.  The  in- 
vestigation of  the  unconscious,  made  by  the  col- 
laboration of  many  workers,  carried  on  over  a  space 
of  ten  years,  provided  an  extensive  empirical  ma- 
terial, which  demonstrated  that  the  incest-complex 
was  the  beginning  of  the  morbid  phantasies.  But  it 
was  no  longer  thought  that  the  incest-complex  was 
a  special  complex  of  neurotic  people.  It  was  demon- 
strated to  be  a  constituent  of  a  normal  infantile 
psyche  too.  We  cannot  tell,  by  its  mere  existence, 
if  this  complex  will  give  rise  to  a  neurosis  or  not. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  295 

To  become  pathogenic,  it  must  give  rise  to  a  con- 
flict ;  that  is,  the  complex,  which  in  itself  is  harmless, 
has  become  dynamic,  and  thus  gives  rise  to  a  con- 
flict. 

*  *  Herewith,  we  come  to  a  new  and  important  ques- 
tion. The  whole  etiological  problem  is  altered,  if  the 
infantile  'root-complex'  is  only  a  general  form,  which 
is  not  pathogenic  in  itself,  and  requires,  as  we  saw 
in  our  previous  exposition,  to  be  subsequently  set  in 
action.  Under  these  circumstances,  we  dig  in  vain 
among  the  reminiscences  of  earliest  childhood,  as 
they  give  us  only  the  general  forms  of  the  later  con- 
flicts, but  not  the  conflict  itself. 

"I  believe  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  describe  the 
further  development  of  the  theory  by  demonstrat- 
ing the  case  of  that  young  lady  whose  story  you  have 
heard  in  part  in  one  of  the  former  lectures.  You 
will  probably  remember  that  the  shying  of  the 
horses,  by  means  of  the  anamnestic  explanation, 
brought  back  the  reminiscence  of  a  comparable  scene 
in  childhood.  We  here  discussed  the  trauma  theory. 
We  found  that  we  had  to  look  for  the  real  patholog- 
ical element  in  the  exaggerated  phantasy,  which  took 
its  origin  in  a  certain  retardation  of  the  psychic 
sexual  development.  We  have  now  to  apply  our 
theoretical  standpoint  to  the  origin  of  this  particular 
type  of  illness,  so  that  we  may  understand  how,  just 
at  that  moment,  this  event  of  her  childhood,  which 
seemed  to  be  of  such  potency,  could  come  to  constel- 
lation. 

* '  The  simplest  way  to  come  to  an  understanding  of 


296  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

this  important  event  would  be  by  making  an  exact 
inquiry  into  the  circumstances  of  the  moment.  The 
first  thing  I  did  was  to  question  the  patient  about 
the  society  in  which  she  had  been  at  that  time,  and 
as  to  what  was  the  farewell  gathering  to  which  she 
had  been  just  before.  She  had  been  at  a  farewell 
supper,  given  in  honour  of  her  best  friend,  who  was 
going  to  a  foreign  health-resort  for  a  nervous  ill- 
ness. We  hear  that  this  friend  is  happily  married, 
and  is  the  mother  of  one  child.  We  have  some  right 
to  doubt  this  assertion  of  her  happiness.  If  she 
were  really  happily  married,  she  probably  would 
not  be  nervous  and  would  not  need  a  cure.  When 
I  put  my  question  differently,  I  learned  that  my  pa- 
tient had  been  brought  back  into  the  host's  house  as 
soon  as  she  was  overtaken  by  her  friends,  as  this 
house  was  the  nearest  place  to  bring  her  to  in  safety. 
In  her  exhausted  condition  she  received  his  hospital- 
ity. As  the  patient  came  to  this  part  of  her  history 
she  suddenly  broke  off,  was  embarrassed,  fidgeted 
and  tried  to  turn  to  another  subject.  Evidently  we 
had  now  come  upon  some  disagreeable  reminiscences, 
which  suddenly  presented  themselves.  After  the  pa- 
tient had  overcome  obstinate  resistances,  it  was  ad- 
mitted that  something  very  remarkable  had  happened 
that  night.  The  host  made  her  a  passionate  declara- 
tion of  love,  thus  giving  rise  to  a  situation  that  might 
well  be  considered  difficult  and  painful,  considering 
the  absence  of  the  hostess.  Ostensibly  this  declara- 
tion came  like  a  flash  of  lightning  from  a  clear  sky. 
A  small  dose  of  criticism  applied  to  this  assertion 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  297 

will  teach  us  that  these  things  never  drop  from  the 
clouds,  but  have  always  their  previous  history.  It 
was  the  work  of  the  following  weeks  to  dig  out  piece- 
meal a  whole,  long  love-story. 

"I  can  thus  roughly  describe  the  picture  I  got  at 
finally.  As  child  the  patient  was  thoroughly  boyish, 
loved  only  turbulent  games  for  boys,  laughed  at  her 
own  sex,  and  flung  aside  all  feminine  ways  and  oc- 
cupations. After  puberty,  the  time  when  the  sex- 
question  should  have  come  nearer  to  her,  she  began 
to  shun  all  society;  she  hated  and  despised,  as  it 
were,  everything  which  could  remind  her  even  re- 
motely of  the  biological  destination  of  mankind,  and 
lived  in  a  world  of  phantasies  which  had  nothing  in 
common  with  the  rude  reality.  So  she  escaped,  up 
to  her  twenty-fourth  year,  all  the  little  adventures, 
hopes  and  expectations  which  ordinarily  move  a 
woman  of  this  age.  (In  this  respect  women  are  very 
often  remarkably  insincere  towards  themselves  and 
towards  the  physician.)  But  she  became  acquainted 
with  two  men  who  were  destined  to  destroy  the 
thorny  hedge  which  had  grown  all  around  her.  Mr. 
A.  was  the  husband  of  her  best  friend  at  the  time ; 
Mr.  B.  was  the  bachelor-friend  of  this  family.  Both 
were  to  her  taste.  It  seemed  to  her  pretty  soon  that 
Mr.  B.  was  much  more  sympathetic  to  her,  and  from 
this  resulted  a  more  intimate  relationship  between 
herself  and  him,  and  the  possibility  of  an  engage- 
ment was  discussed.  Through  her  relations  with 
Mr.  B.,  and  through  her  friend,  she  met  Mr.  A  fre- 
quently. In  an  inexplicable  way  his  presence  very 


298  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

often  excited  her  and  made  her  nervous.  Just  at 
this  time  our  friend  went  to  a  big  party.  All  her 
friends  were  there.  She  became  lost  in  thought,  and 
played  as  in  a  dream  with  her  ring,  which  suddenly 
slipped  from  her  hand  and  rolled  under  the  table. 
Both  men  tried  to  find  it,  and  Mr.  B.  managed  to  get 
it.  With  an  expressive  smile  he  put  the  ring  back 
on  her  finger  and  said:  'You  know  what  this 
means?'  At  that  moment  a  strange  and  irresistible 
feeling  came  over  her,  she  tore  the  ring  from  her 
finger  and  threw  it  out  of  the  open  window.  Evi- 
dently a  painful  moment  ensued,  and  she  soon  left 
the  company,  feeling  deeply  depressed.  A  short 
time  later  she  found  herself,  for  her  holidays,  acci- 
dentally in  the  same  health-resort  where  Mr.  A.  and 
his  wife  were  staying.  Mrs.  A.  now  became  more 
and  more  nervous,  and,  as  she  felt  ill,  had  to  stay 
frequently  at  home.  The  patient  often  went  out  with 
Mr.  A.  alone.  One  day  they  were  out  in  a  small 
boat.  She  was  boisterously  merry,  and  suddenly 
fell  overboard.  Mr.  A.  saved  her  with  great  diffi- 
culty, and  lifted  her,  half  unconscious,  into  the  boat. 
He  then  kissed  her.  With  this  romantic  event  the 
bonds  were  woven  fast.  To  defend  herself,  our 
patient  tried  energetically  to  get  herself  engaged  to 
Mr.  B.,  and  to  imagine  that  she  loved  him.  Of 
course  this  queer  play  did  not  escape  the  sharp  eye 
of  feminine  jealousy.  Mrs.  A.,  her  friend,  felt  the 
secret,  was  worried  by  it,  and  her  nervousness  grew 
proportionately.  It  became  more  and  more  neces- 
sary for  her  to  go  to  a  foreign  health-resort.  The 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  299 

farewell-party  was  a  dangerous  opportunity.  The 
patient  knew  that  her  friend  and  rival  was  going  off 
the  same  evening,  so  Mr.  A.  would  be  alone.  Cer- 
tainly she  did  not  see  this  opportunity  clearly,  as 
women  have  the  notable  capacity  'to  think'  purely 
emotionally,  and  not  intellectually.  For  this  reason, 
it  seems  to  them  as  if  they  never  thought  about 
certain  matters  at  all,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  she 
had  a  queer  feeling  all  the  evening.  She  felt  ex- 
tremely nervous,  and  when  Mrs.  A.  had  been  accom- 
panied to  the  station  and  had  gone,  the  hysterical 
attack  occurred  on  her  way  back.  I  asked  her  of 
what  she  had  been  thinking,  or  what  she  felt  at  the 
actual  moment  when  the  trotting  horses  came  along. 
Her  answer  was,  she  had  only  a  frightful  feeling, 
the  feeling  that  something  was  very  near  to  her, 
which  she  could  not  escape.  As  you  know,  the  con- 
sequence was  that  the  exhausted  patient  was  brought 
back  into  the  house  of  the  host,  Mr.  A.  A  simple 
human  mind  would  understand  the  situation  without 
difficulty.  An  uninitiated  person  would  say:  'Well, 
that  is  clear  enough,  she  only  intended  to  return  by 
one  way  or  another  to  Mr.  A's  house,'  but  the  psy- 
chologist would  reproach  this  layman  for  his  incor- 
rect way  of  expressing  himself,  and  would  tell  him 
that  the  patient  was  not  conscious  of  the  motives  of 
her  behaviour,  and  that  it  was,  therefore,  not  permis- 
sible to  speak  of  the  patient's  intention  to  return  to 
Mr.  A's  house. 

"There  are,  of  course,  learned  psychologists  who 
are  capable  of  furnishing  many  theoretical  reasons 


300  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

for  disputing  the  meaning  of  this  behaviour.  They 
base  their  reasons  on  the  dogma  of  the  identity  of 
consciousness  and  psyche.  The  psychology  inaugu- 
rated by  Freud  recognised  long  ago  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  estimate  psychological  actions  as  to  their 
final  meaning  by  conscious  motives,  but  that  the 
objective  standard  of  their  psychological  results  has 
to  be  applied  for  their  right  evaluation.  Now-a-days 
it  cannot  be  contested  any  longer  that  there  are 
unconscious  tendencies  too,  which  have  a  great  influ- 
ence on  our  modes  of  reaction,  and  on  the  effects  to 
which  these  in  turn  give  rise.  What  happened  in 
Mr.  A's  house  bears  out  this  observation ;  our  patient 
made  a  sentimental  scene,  and  Mr.  A.  was  induced 
to  answer  it  with  a  declaration  of  love.  Looked  at 
in  the  light  of  this  last  event,  the  whole  previous 
history  seems  to  be  very  ingeniously  directed  towards 
just  this  end,  but  throughout  the  conscience  of  the 
patient  struggled  consciously  against  it.  Our  theo- 
retical profit  from  this  story  is  the  clear  conception 
that  an  unconscious  purpose  or  tendency  has  brought 
on  to  the  stage  the  scene  of  the  fright  from  the 
horses,  utilising  thus  very  possibly  that  infantile 
reminiscence,  where  the  shying  horses  galloped 
towards  the  catastrophe.  Eeviewing  the  whole  ma- 
terial, the  scene  with  the  horses — the  starting  point 
of  the  illness — seems  now  to  be  the  keystone  of  a 
planned  edifice.  The  fright,  and  the  apparent  trau- 
matic effect  of  the  event  in  childhood,  are  only 
brought,  on  the  stage  in  the  peculiar  way  character- 
istic of  hysteria.  But  what  is  thus  put  on  the  stage 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  301 

has  become  almost  a  reality.  We  know  from  hun- 
dreds of  experiences  that  certain  hysterical  pains 
are  only  put  on  the  stage  in  order  to  reap  certain 
advantages  from  the  sufferer's  surroundings.  The 
patients  not  only  believe  that  they  suffer,  but  their 
sufferings  are,  from  a  psychological  standpoint,  as 
real  as  those  due  to  organic  causes;  nevertheless, 
they  are  but  stage-effects. 

"This  utilisation  of  reminiscences  to  put  on  the 
stage  any  illness,  or  an  apparent  etiology,  is  called 
a  regression  of  the  libido.  The  libido  goes  back  to 
reminiscences,  and  makes  them  actual,  so  that  an 
apparent  etiology  is  produced.  In  this  case,  by  the 
old  theory,  the  fright  from  the  horses  would  seem 
to  be  based  on  a  former  shock.  The  resemblance 
between  the  two  scenes  is  unmistakable,  and  in  both 
cases  the  patient's  fright  is  absolutely  real.  At  any 
rate,  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  her  assertions  in 
this  respect,  as  they  are  in  full  harmony  with  all 
other  experiences.  The  nervous  asthma,  the  hysteri- 
cal anxiety,  the  psychogenic  depressions  and  exalta- 
tions, the  pains,  the  convulsions — they  are  all  very 
real,  and  that  physician  who  has  himself  suffered 
from  a  psychogenic  symptom  knows  that  it  feels 
absolutely  real.  Kegressively  re-lived  reminis- 
cences, even  if  they  were  but  phantasies,  are  as  real 
as  remembrances  of  events  that  have  once  been  real. 

"As  the  term  'regression  of  libido'  shows,  we 
understand  by  this  retrograde  mode  of  application 
of  the  libido,  a  retreat  of  the  libido  to  former  stages. 
In  our  example,  we  are  able  to  recognise  clearly  the 


302  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

way  the  process  of  regression  is  carried  on.  At  that 
farewell  party,  which  proved  a  good  opportunity  to 
be  alone  with  the  host,  the  patient  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  turning  this  opportunity  to  her  advantage, 
and  yet  was  overpowered  by  her  desires,  which  she 
had  never  consciously  realised  up  to  that  moment. 
The  libido  was  not  used  consciously  for  that  definite 
purpose,  nor  was  this  purpose  ever  acknowledged. 
The  libido  had  to  carry  it  out  through  the  uncon- 
scious, and  through  the  pretext  of  the  fright  caused 
by  an  apparently  terrible  danger.  Her  feeling  at 
the  moment  when  the  horses  approached  illustrates 
our  formula  most  clearly;  she  felt  as  if  something 
inevitable  had  now  to  happen. 

"The  process  of  regression  is  beautifully  demon- 
strated in  an  illustration  already  used  by  Freud. 
The  libido  can  be  compared  with  a  stream  which  is 
dammed  up  as  soon  as  its  course  meets  any  impedi- 
ment, whence  arises  an  inundation.  If  this  stream 
has  previously,  in  its  upper  reaches,  excavated  other 
channels,  then  these  channels  will  be  filled  up  again 
by  reason  of  the  damming  below.  To  a  certain 
extent  they  would  appear  to  be  real  river  beds,  filled 
with  water  as  before,  but  at  the  same  time,  they 
only  have  a  temporary  existence.  It  is  not  that  the 
stream  has  permanently  chosen  the  old  channels,  but 
only  for  as  long  as  the  impediment  endures  in  the 
main  stream.  The  affluents  do  not  always  carry 
water,  because  they  were  from  the  first,  as  it  were, 
not  independent  streams,  but  only  former  stages  of 
development  of  the  main  river,  or  passing  possibil- 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT          303 

ities,  to  which  an  inundation  has  given  the  oppor- 
tunity for  fresh  existence.  This  illustration  can 
directly  be  transferred  to  the  development  of  the 
application  of  the  libido.  The  definite  direction,  the 
main  river,  is  not  yet  found  during  the  childish 
development  of  sexuality.  The  libido  goes  instead 
into  all  possible  by-paths,  and  only  gradually  does 
the  definite  form  develop.  But  the  more  the  stream 
follows  out  its  main  channel,  the  more  the  affluents 
will  dry  up  and  lose  their  importance,  leaving  only 
traces  of  former  activity.  Similarly,  the  importance 
of  the  childish  precursors  of  sexuality  disappears 
completely  as  a  rule,  only  leaving  behind  certain 
traces. 

"If  in  later  life  an  impediment  arises,  so  that  the 
damming  of  the  libido  reanimates  the  old  by-paths, 
the  condition  thus  excited  is  properly  a  new  one,  and 
something  abnormal. 

"The  former  condition  of  the  child  is  normal 
usage  of  the  libido,  whilst  the  return  of  the  libido 
towards  the  childish  past  is  something  abnormal. 
Therefore,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  an  erroneous  ter- 
minology to  call  the  infantile  sexual  manifestations 
'perversions,'  for  it  is  not  permissible  to  give 
normal  manifestations  pathological  terms.  This 
erroneous  usage  seems  to  be  responsible  for  the  con- 
fusion of  the  scientific  public.  The  terms  employed 
in  neurotic  psychology  have  been  misapplied  here, 
under  the  assumption  that  the  abnormal  by-paths  of 
the  libido  discovered  in  neurotic  people  are  the  same 
phenomena  as  are  to  be  found  in  children. ' ' 


304  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

I  have  cited  these  cases  rather  fully  because  of  the 
importance  of  the  concept  of  regression  of  the  libido. 
A  whole  host  of  psychotic  symptoms  are  traceable  to 
this  cause  as  well  as  many  peculiarities  of  character 
and  conduct.  In  these  cases  we  see  the  regression 
actually  taking  place  and  see  also  how  it  works. 

In  discussing  the  meaning  of  regression  the  first 
and  most  important  fact  which  seems  to  be  in  evi- 
dence is  that  regression  means  failure  and  that  the 
degree  of  failure  can  be  measured  by  the  degree  of 
regression.  For  example:  both  of  the  cases  just 
cited  represent  hysterical  types  of  reaction  in  which 
the  libido  regression  is  global,  that  is,  massive,  going 
back  to  actual,  so  to  speak,  whole,  complete  situations 
in  the  life  of  the  patient  either  in  fact  or  in  phan- 
tasy. The  libido  remains  within  ontogenetic  bounds, 
it  does  not  regress  beyond  the  limits  of  the  indi- 
vidual's own  development.  We  have  already  seen 
examples  of  archaic  types  of  reaction  (Chapter  X), 
in  which,  as  a  result  of  libido  regression,  the  indi- 
vidual is  carried  back  to  levels  representative  of 
stages  in  the  history  of  the  race  of  lower  cultural 
development  (animism).  This  regression  to  phylo- 
genetically  older  levels  is  much  more  serious,  and 
is,  I  think,  the  most  characteristic  element  in  the 
dementia  prsecox  types  of  reaction. 

Failure  means  an  inability  of  the  libido  to  find  an 
adequate  outlet  at  the  higher  levels  and  therefore 
it  has  to  seek  levels  which  are  older  and  in  which 
the  discharge  pathways  have  been  deeply  channelled. 
Here  there  seems  to  be  no  question  but  that  the 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  305 

libido  can  get  out.  From  the  two  cases  cited,  how- 
ever, we  see  that  the  whole  matter  is  not  quite  so 
simple.  Perhaps  the  libido  can  get  out  at  the  older 
levels  but  in  so  doing  it  offends  the  ideals  which  the 
individual  has  acquired  in  his  upward  strivings  and 
so  the  result  is  illness. 

There  would  be  no  symbolisation  if  there  were  no 
conflict  and  no  failure.  This  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  history  of  machine  design.  Almost  any  machine 
will  illustrate  the  point  but  take  the  type-writer  for 
instance.6  During  its  early  history  it  was  most 
elaborately  decorated  with  paintings  of  highly  col- 
oured flowers,  landscapes,  and  gilded  designs.  In 
proportion  to  the  net  result  of  the  improvements, 
as  time  went  on,  the  decorations  decreased.  It 
would  seem  as  if  that  portion  of  the  libido  which 
went  into  the  creation  of  the  type-writer  but  which 
failed  in  securing  efficient  results  expressed  itself  in 
phantasy  formations.  If  the  libido  is  free  and  flows 
without  impediment  into  reality  where  it  finds  itself 
fully  effective  there  is  none  left  for  phantasieing, 
no  lost  motion,  desire  translates  itself  immediately 
in  efficient  action.  What  then  is  the  object,  what  the 
aim  of  phantasy  formation?  Has  it  a  function  in 
bringing  about  the  resolution  of  the  conflict? 

The  object  of  phantasy  may  be  considered  as  two 
fold.  The  first,  and  less  important  object,  I  think, 
is  the  object  of  finding  an  outlet  for  the  libido  at  an 
older  level  when  faced  with  a  situation  to  which 

8  Personal  communication  from  Prof.  D.  S.  Kimball,  Professor  of 
Machine  Design,  Cornell  University. 


306 

adjustment  is  difficult.  It  is  a  way  of  letting  off 
steam  or  as  the  phrase  goes  of  emotional  catharsis. 
It  is  pretty  difficult  for  any  one,  no  matter  how  well 
equipped,  to  continuously  live  up  to  the  tension  de- 
manded by  efficient  reaction,  all  day  long  every  day. 
The  dream  serves  as  a  let  down  from  this  tension, 
it  is  a  drop  from  the  requirements  of  reality.  Per- 
haps the  psyche  gets  a  little  surcease  in  this  way,  a 
little  rest  for  tackling  the  problems  again  with  re- 
newed energy. 

The  more  important  function  of  phantasy  is 
coupled  with  its  already  alluded  to  function  of  por- 
traying the  conflict,  that  is,  its  picturing  of  the  two 
opposed  tendencies  that  are  battling  for  supremacy. 

In  Chapter  II  I  have  shown  how  consciousness 
arises  out  of  conflict,  how  it  only  comes  into  existence 
under  the  necessity  of  exercising  choice,  at  moments 
of  adaptation  to  new  and  hitherto  unadjusted  to 
situations.  Instinct  goes  straight  to  its  goal,  con- 
sciousness is  unnecessary,  the  adjustment  is  perfect. 
The  Ammophila  hirsuta  is  able  to  sting  with  the  .most 
marvellous  anatomical  accuracy  each  of  the  nine 
nerve  ganglia  of  its  caterpillar  victim  and  then 
squeeze  its  head  in  its  mandibles  just  hard  enough 
to  paralyse  without  causing  death.  The  accuracy  of 
the  Ammophila  is  greater  than  that  which  could  be 
acquired  by  the  entomologist  yet  we  have  no  reason 
to  assume  that  it  is  accompanied  by  consciousness. 
The  relation  between  the  Ammophila  and  the  cater- 
pillar is  a  determined  one,  nothing  is  left  to  choice, 
and  therefore  there  is  no  consciousness.  As  soon, 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  307 

however,  as  life  has  become  so  complex  that  definite 
relations  such  as  that  between  the  Ammophila  and 
the  caterpillar  no  longer  are  possible,  when  each 
situation  calling  for  action  is  in  some  respects  a  new 
situation  and  therefore  calls  for  a  new  adjustment, 
action  based  upon  choice,  then  consciousness  enters 
upon  the  scene. 

This  complexity  is  just  the  characteristic  thing 
about  man  and  his  life.  The  compounding  and  the 
re-compounding  of  reflexes  has  gone  on  to  possibil- 
ities ever  broader  but  correspondingly  less  and  less 
predictable  and  forcing  man  along  the  pathway  of 
development  which  leads  always  into  the  unknown 
and  therefore  to  an  increasing  number  of  situations 
that  are  encountered  for  the  first  time.  The  fact 
that  consciousness  only  arises  at  moments  of  conflict 
would  then  indicate  that,  in  order  that  the  conflict 
should  be  resolved  and  result  in  efficient  action,  it 
must  enter  consciousness.  In  other  words,  that  the 
redistribution  of  energy  which  is  necessary  in  order 
to  act  can  only  be  effected  through  the  medium  of 
consciousness.  Just  what  I  mean  by  this  will  be 
clear  if  it  is  recalled  what  I  said  in  Chapter  V  about 
the  symbol  as  a  carrier  of  energy. 

The  object  of  the  symbolisation  of  the  conflict  is, 
therefore,  in  general,  to  bring  the  whole  matter  into 
consciousness  but  in  particular  to  bring  that  particu- 
lar element  into  consciousness  which  is  interfering 
with  the  progress  of  the  individual.  This  element 
in  terms  of  the  unconscious  is  the  instinctive  tend- 
ency that  drags  back  on  the  road  of  progress.  In 


308  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

terms  of  the  Adlerian  view-point  it  would  be  the  in- 
ferior organ.  Let  us  take  up  first  this  latter  aspect 
of  the  situation. 

It  is  about  the  defective  functioning  of  the  inferior 
organ  that  the  feeling  of  insufficiency  tends  to  con- 
centrate. In  other  words,  it  is  the  inferior  organ 
that  makes  efficient  relating  of  the  individual  to  his 
environment  inadequate  and  the  way  he  fails  is 
determined  by  the  inefficiency  of  his  adaptation  as 
mediated  by  the  organ  in  question.  Now  the  fact 
that  his  failure  is  associated  with  deficiency  of  func- 
tion of  a  particular  organ  tends  to  drag  that  organ 
into  consciousness,  that  is,  makes  it  the  object  of 
attention.  Take  for  example,  the  case  of  the  boy 
cited  by  Adler,  who  suffered  repeated  injuries  to  his 
eye.  These  injuries  bring  the  eye  within  the  focus 
of  conscious  attention  and  therefore  prompt  the 
doing  of  those  things  which  will  minimise  the  possi- 
bility of  further  injuries.  As  Adler7  puts  it,  "a 
particular  interest  seeks  to  protect  the  inferior 
organ." 

The  symbolisation  of  the  conflict  becomes,  there- 
fore, a  means  of  securing  the  assistance  of  the  psyche 
in  dealing  with  the  situation.  That  the  whole  diffi- 
culty is  not  at  once  dragged  into  full  conscious 
awareness  in  an  intellectually  controlled  situation 
is  perfectly  understandable.  Such  a  result  can  be  ac- 
complished only  by  the  expenditure  of  a  great  deal  of 
effort.  An  alegbraic  formula  cannot  be  clearly  com- 
prehended at  once,  there  must  have  preceded  a  long 

TLoo.  tit. 


EESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  309 

period  of  preparation,  in  studying  arithmetic,  etc., 
before  even  a  faint  glimmer  of  its  meaning  is  pos- 
sible. The  possibilities,  however,  when  the  help  of 
the  psyche  is  assured  are  tremendous.  To  quote 
Adler  again:8  "A  particular  view-point  has  taught 
me  how  often  a  morphologic  or  functional  deficiency 
of  an  organ  is  converted  to  a  higher  development  of 
that  organ.  The  stuttering  boy  Demosthenes  be- 
came the  greatest  orator  of  Greece,  and  to-day  we 
seldom  find  such  a  heaping  up  of  defects  of  speech 
and  signs  of  degeneration  in  the  mouth  as  in  orators, 
actors  and  singers." 

If  the  defective  organ  can  get  into  the  psyche, 
that  is,  if  attention,  interest  can  be  centred  upon 
it  then  that  redistribution  of  energy  can  begin  which 
we  call  compensation.  The  redistribution  of  energy 
is  effected  by  means  of  the  symbol.  The  symbol 
carries  the  energy  over  to  the  defective  organ. 

The  same  argument  may  be  used  with  reference 
to  the  dragging  of  the  unconscious  component  of  the 
conflict  in  consciousness.  I  have  discussed  the  prob- 
lem with  reference  to  inferior  organs  because  that 
tended  to  make  it  more  concrete  and  easy  of  under- 
standing. The  only  difference  in  discussing  the 
problem  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  unconscious 
factor  is  that  there  may  be  no  visible  and  tangible 
defective  organ.  The  organ  defect  here  may  be  only 
hypothetical,  as  for  example,  a  defect  in  cortical 
architectonics  or  even  in  an  lorgan  of  the  mind 
itself,  whatever  that  might  be  taken  to  mean.  In 

8  Loc.  cit. 


310  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

any  case  we  have  to  think  of  special  mental  aptitudes 
as  having  a  physical  substratum  of  sufficiently  com- 
plex cortical  structure  for  subserving  the  necessary 
conditioned  reflexes.  From  this  discussion  we  are 
brought  to  a  further  reason  for  considering  the 
origin  of  consciousness  to  be  in  conflict  and  we  also 
see  that  very  truly  consciousness,  to  use  the  expres- 
sion of  Hall's,9  is  " remedial. " 

Maeder  recognises  this  same  principle,  I  take  it,  in 
the  dream  when  he  says : 10  "In  the  dream  there  is  at 
work  a  preparatory  arranging  function  which  be- 
longs to  the  work  of  adjustment."  Here  we  see 
consciousness  at  its  lowest  ebb,  so  to  speak,  but  even 
here  Maeder  recognises  in  its  work  an  effort  at 
adjustment.  The  success  of  such  a  work  of  adjust- 
ment is  graphically  illustrated  by  the  case  cited  by 
Flournoy  "  of  a  young  woman  who  was  so  beside 
herself  that  she  decided  on  suicide  as  the  only  escape 
from  her  sufferings.  She  went  to  the  water's  edge 
and  was  about  to  throw  herself  in  when  the  image 
of  a  physician,  in  whom  she  had  great  confidence 
and  upon  whose  advice  she  had  learned  to  lean,  rose 
from  the  water,  took  her  by  the  arm  and  led  her 
home,  meantime  counselling  her  upon  her  duties  to 
her  children  and  otherwise  pointing  out  to  her  how 
wrong  was  her  contemplated  act. 

Here  we  come  upon  the  teleological  function  of  the 

»  Loc.  cit. 

1°  The  Dream  Problem,  Nerv.  and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  22. 

11  Flournoy:  Automatisme  T6l6ologique  Antisuicide.  Un  cas  de 
Suicide  EmpSche'  par  une  Hallucination.  Arch.  d.  Psychologie,  Tome 
VII,  Oct.,  1907. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  311 

phantasy  formations  which  has  been  emphasised 
more  particularly  by  Maeder  and  especially  with 
reference  to  dreams.  Just  a  couple  of  examples. 
Jung 12  reports  the  dream  of  a  Eussian  Jew  who, 
greatly  against  the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  de- 
cided to  renounce  his  religion.  His  mother  appeared 
to  him  in  a  dream  and  said:  "If  you  do  this  I  will 
choke  you."  Here  the  "still  small  voice"  literally 
spoke  and  he  obeyed.  One  of  my  patients,  among 
other  symptoms,  had  auditory  hallucinations.  The 
voices  told  him  that  he  did  not  take  enough  money 
home  from  his  wages.  Questioning  elicited  the  fact 
that  following  a  mishap  with  his  work  he  had  taken 
an  additional  drink  or  so  each  day.  As  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  taking  all  of  his  wages  home  except  what 
little  went  for  car-fare  and  lunch,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  voices  went  right  to  the  root  of  the  difficulty. 
The  patient  was  suffering  from  an  alcoholic  psy- 
chosis. 

In  these  examples  the  indications  as  to  the  line 
along  which  the  individual's  conduct  must  proceed, 
in  order  to  resolve  the  conflict,  are  very  plain.  That 
the  phantasy  formations  should  contain  such  intima- 
tions is  a  corollary  to  the  proposition  that  they  sym- 
bolise both  factors  that  are  opposed.  In  the  dream 
of  the  young  man  standing  by  the  dead  body  of  the 
grandfather  we  have  seen  that  the  grandfather 
symbolised  both  aspects  of  the  conflict.  The  move- 
ment of  the  body  signifying  that  he  (the  dreamer's 

12  Jung,  C.  G.:  The  Psychology  of  Dementia  Prsecox.  Nerv. 
and  Ment.  Dis.  Monog.  Se.  No.  3. 


312  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

ideal)  did  not  rest  easily  in  death  is  the  teleological 
element  in  the  dream.  The  dreamer  must  be  up  and 
doing  and  successful,  like  his  grandfather,  in  order 
to  be  happy. 

Speaking  of  the  two  directions  of  the  libido,  pro- 
gressive and  regressive,  Maeder  says : 13 

"The  two  main  principles  here  mentioned  are 
after  all  only  an  expression  of  the  two  typical  forms 
of  activity  of  the  libido,  progressive  and  regressive. 
They  are  metaphorically  expressed,  two  channels  at 
the  disposal  of  the  libido  current.  The  important 
point  is  the  proper  distribution  of  the  same.  They 
are  also  comparable  to  two  voices  which,  more  or 
less  harmoniously,  sing  the  song  of  life.  In  neuro- 
sis, as  in  the  first  phase  of  cure  by  analysis,  the 
voice  of  regression  drowns  the  other;  this  can  be 
proved  in  numerous  dreams  which  are  to  be  found 
in  literature;  I  have  therefore  avoided  giving  ex- 
amples. It  is  true  that  in  all  these  dreams  traces 
of  the  drowned  voice  of  progression  are  demon- 
strable. It  is  to  this  point,  it  seems  to  me,  that  the 
analyst  of  the  future  should  attach  the  most  impor- 
tance, for  we  are  first  and  foremost  healers,  and 
therefore  it  is  our  duty  to  point  out  to  our  wander- 
ing patients  the  light  that  shines  in  the  distance. 
This  gleam  of  light  is  to  serve  them  as  a  lighthouse 
in  the  storms  of  passion.  In  the  course  of  the  treat- 
ment the  voice  of  progression  will  gradually  become 
louder,  until  it  finally  takes  the  dominant  note.  The 
connection  between  pleasure  and  displeasure  prin- 

13  "The  Dream  Problem,"  loc,  cit. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  313 

ciple  and  the  cathartic  function,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
between  the  reality  principle  and  the  preparatory 
function  on  the  other,  can  here  be  merely  indicated. 
An  outburst  of  anger,  to  avoid  internal  tension,  the 
striving  for  satisfaction  by  replacements,  are  frank 
unloadings  (cathartic  cleansings) ;  the  weighing  and 
representing  of  the  solution  of  a  conflict  prepares 
for  freedom  and  leads  to  reality." 

One  final  point  to  conclude  this  discussion  of  the 
mechanisms  involved  in  the  resolution  of  the  conflict. 
In  the  chapter  on  symbolism  I  have  described  the 
symbol  as  a  carrier  of  energy  and  said  that  the 
symbol  had  proved  its  greater  value  over  other 
energy  carriers  such  as  chemical  radicals,  hormones 
and  reflexes  because  it  was  more  adjustable  to  vary- 
ing conditions  and  was  capable  of  rendering  service 
apparently  without  limit  in  man's  advance  in  the 
control  of  his  environment.  Let  us  examine  some 
of  those  elements  that  make  the  symbol  so  adjustable. 

In  the  first  place,  the  symbol  accumulates,  so  to 
speak,  the  energy  of  the  conflict.  The  difficulty  is 
nucleated  by  the  symbol.  It  is  in  the  symbol  that 
the  whole  energy  of  the  disturbance  is  gathered  to- 
gether. This  is  exceptionally  well  seen  in  the  bi- 
polarity  of  the  symbol  and  its  overdetermination. 
All  sorts  of  meanings  are  crowded  together  and 
represented  by  a  single  symbol,  even  meanings  that 
are  diametrically  opposed — the  ambivalency  of  the 
symbol.  We  have  seen  many  examples  of  this 
mechanism.  A  single  symbol  in  a  dream  for  ex- 
ample may  represent  the  doctor,  back  of  him  the 


314  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

sweetheart,  and  then  the  brother,  and  hidden  behind 
the  brother  the  father.  At  the  same  time  the  symbol 
will  represent  both  the  regressive  and  progressive 
aspects  of  the  dreamer 's  love  which  goes  out  to  these 
different  persons.  In  general  the  regressive  aspect 
is  represented  by  the  attachment  which  means  de- 
pendence and  the  progressive  by  the  love  that  creates 
an  ideal. 

To  revert  to  the  dream  already  referred  to  of  the 
woman  trying  to  speak  to  her  brother  outside  the 
convent.  She  was  standing  outside  and  could  see 
her  brother  within  putting  on  his  vestments  pre- 
paratory to  hearing  confessions.  She  tried  to  speak 
to  him  but  could  not  make  herself  heard  because  the 
window  was  closed.  He  tried  to  speak  also  but  she 
could  not  understand  for  the  same  reason.  She  then 
tried  to  reach  him  but  failed  and  awoke  very  much 
depressed.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  brother 
had  been  dead  some  years.  Hence  the  closed  win- 
dow, the  failure  to  make  herself  heard,  the  depres- 
sion on  awaking. 

This  patient  had  had  a  sexual  trauma  when  she 
was  a  young  girl.  The  man  on  this  occasion  clearly 
symbolised  her  father.  Later  in  life  she  had  been 
very  greatly  attracted  by  another  man  who  quite  as 
clearly  symbolised  her  brother.  But  back  of  the 
very  evident  symbolisation  of  her  brother  he  also 
symbolised  a  certain  aspect  of  the  father,  the  lovable 
aspect,  the  opposite  aspect  of  that  represented  by 
the  first  man  who  symbolised  the  aspect  of  severity. 
Now,  it  will  be  recalled,  that  this  patient  was  able 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  CONFLICT  315 

to  get  well  by  transferring  her  affection  for  her  dead 
brother  to  the  physician  and  confessing  to  him  as 
she  had  always  wanted  to  confess  to  her  brother  but 
had  put  it  off  until  too  late.  It  is  evident,  therefore, 
first,  that  in  confessing  to  the  physician  she  has 
finally  accomplished,  by  what  has  been  called  the 
process  of  resymbolisation,  the  impossible.  Namely 
she  has  confessed  to  her  brother  though  he  has  been 
dead  many  years.  But  more  than  that,  for  as  the 
brother  image  only  stands  in  front  of  and  hides  the 
father  image,  she  has  also  confessed  to  her  father. 
Inasmuch  as  she  is  a  devout  Catholic  I  think  it  not 
too  much  to  add  that  she  has  not  only  succeeded  in 
confessing  to  her  father,  who  also  is  long  since  dead, 
but  also  to  her  father  in  heaven,  her  Heavenly 
Father,  and  so  has  secured  his  forgiveness.  But 
still  further,  the  physician  also,  because  he  symbol- 
ises the  brother  also  symbolises  the  father  and  there- 
fore in  confessing  to  him  she  is  able  to  free  herself 
completely  of  her  sin  and  secure  absolute  forgive- 
ness. The  physician  has,  for  the  time  being,  been 
the  priest  to  her. 

All  these  things  could  be  effected  because  of  the 
adjustability  of  the  symbol.  The  brother  in  the 
dream  is  the  symbol  for  the  whole  situation  and  it 
is  that  symbol  which  is  capable  of  making  the  neces- 
sary transfers  of  energy  to  effect  a  resolution  of  the 
conflict.  One  gets  the  impression  that  the  ground 
is  prepared  and  that  the  symbol  is  only  awaiting  a 
chance  to  find  the  appropriate  situation  in  which  to 
find  expression  like  an  enzyme  that  requires  certain 


316  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

conditions  of  temperature  in  order  to  effect  its 
changes.  Now  precisely  a  very  important  feature 
of  this  proposition  is  the  concentration  of  the  whole 
difficulty  in  a  single  symbol  so  that  when  an  oppor- 
tunity does  arise  it  can  be  seized  at  once  and  in  toto. 
The  single  symbol  is  able  to  adjust  itself  to  the  de- 
mands of  a  gradually  developing  meaning  and  so 
carry  the  energy  to  ever  higher  levels.  This  is  the 
function  of  the  symbol  to  which  all  the  others,  bi- 
polarity,  over-determination,  are  subsidiary. 


CHAPTER  Xin 
SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS 

It  has  been  my  aim  in  the  preceding  pages  to 
picture  man,  not  as  an  association  of  mutually  inde- 
pendent parts,  a  body  and  a  mind,  but  as  a  biological 
unit;  not  as  a  separate  living  being  surrounded  by 
an  environment,  but  as  a  bit  of  that  life  which 
expresses  itself  in  all  living  beings.  This  individual 
living  body,  as  we  know  it,  is  the  material  in  and 
through  which  energy  manifests  itself  in  a  constant 
tendency,  with  an  unremitting  effort,  to  develop.  I 
have  called  this  energy  libido ;  it  has  been  called  by 
many  other  names,  and  been  treated  as  the  same  in 
kind  whether  found  at  work  in  the  individual  cell,  in 
the  functioning  of  an  organ,  or  in  the  psyche. 

At  the  very  basis  of  life  we  found  this  energy  at 
work  trying  to  produce  results  but  having,  in  order 
to  succeed,  to  overcome  resistances,  and  so  conflict 
was  found  to  be  fundamental.  Many  examples  of 
conflict  were  given  in  the  different  departments  of 
biology  and  finally  in  the  psychological  realm  where 
we  found  that  clear  conscious  awareness  only  arose 
at  moments  of  conflict  so  that  here  again  conflict  was 
at  the  basis  of  a  phenomenon  of  life.  Consciousness 
only  appears  to  have  arisen  when  the  living  being 
became  enormously  complex  and  seems  to  be  an 

317 


318  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

expression  of  conflict,  in  some  way,  only  when  these 
very  complex  conditions  have  been  developed.  It 
therefore  arises  in  the  general  course  of  develop- 
ment and  is  not  an  epiphenomenon  outside  the  play 
of  natural  forces. 

The  psyche,  like  the  other  functions  of  life,  being 
a  product  of  development  must  therefore  have  a 
history,  not  only  individual  but  racial,  both  onto- 
genetic  and  phylogenetic.  A  given  state  of  the 
psyche  can  therefore  only  receive  its  full  explana- 
tion by  an  understanding  of  that  history.  Psycho- 
analysis is  a  technique  for  discovering  that  history. 

From  this  point  on  the  book  has  dealt  with  the 
mechanisms  of  the  conflict  from  different  aspects. 
At  first  it  was  necessary  to  inquire  into  the  ways  in 
which  the  conflict  received  expression  at  the  psycho- 
logical level.  This  resulted  in  the  definition  of  the 
fore-conscious  and  the  unconscious  and  in  formu- 
lating the  principles  of  symbolism.  The  unconscious 
was  seen  to  be  the  repository  of  those  instinctive 
tendencies  which  operate  as  resistances  to  progress 
while  the  symbol  was  seen  to  be  the  agent,  the  tool 
at  the  psychological  level,  for  effecting  that  redis- 
tribution of  energy  essential  for  the  resolution  of 
the  conflict.  And  finally  certain  subsidiary  mechan- 
isms were  examined  which  make  for  efficiency  in  the 
exercise  of  this  function. 

The  particular  way  in  which  the  symbol  accom- 
plishes these  results  was  shown  in  the  dream  mech- 
anisms; the  various  aspects  of  the  will  to  power, 
the  all-powerfulness  of  thought  and  the  partial  libido 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  319 

strivings;  and  especially  in  the  progressive  sym- 
bolisations  which  take  place  in  the  course  of  the 
family  romance. 

There  remains  only  the  examination  of  certain 
attitudes  towards  these  various  problems  which  have 
arisen  as  different  investigators  have  taken  up  the 
work.  This  examination  is  not  so  much  with  the 
purpose  of  attempting  to  settle  the  various  disputed 
points,  as  for  the  purpose  of,  in  this  way,  broaden- 
ing our  view  and  deepening  our  insight  into  the 
whole  situation. 

In  the  first  place — I  have  spoken  all  along  of  a 
nutritional  libido,  the  function  of  which  was  self- 
preservation,  and  of  a  sexual  libido  the  function  of 
which  was  race  perpetuation;  and  I  have  spoken  of 
them  in  this  contrasted  way  thus  intimating  that 
there  were  two  different  libidos  or  at  least  two 
different  forms  of  expression  of  the  libido.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  the  question  is  often  raised  whether 
the  individual  starts  off  with  two  separate  libido 
streams,  or  whether  there  is  only  one  stream  and 
that  one  sexual.  This  latter  view  is  emphasised  by 
such  claims  as  that  of  Freud  that  the  act  of  nursing 
at  the  breast  gives  sexual  pleasure  and  his  compar- 
ison of  the  manifestations  of  pleasure  which  accom- 
pany it  and  the  expressions  of  satisfaction  following, 
with  similar  manifestations  accompanying  and  fol- 
lowing the  sexual  act.  From  this  standpoint  all 
pleasure  is  at  root  sexual,  even  the  pleasure  derived 
from  satisfying  hunger. 

To  this  general  conclusion  Jung  excepts  and  says 


320  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

that  if  the  act  of  sucking  can  be  termed  sexual  then 
by  a  parity  of  reasoning  the  sexual  act  itself  may  be 
termed  nutritional. 

To  my  mind  there  ought  to  be  no  serious  difficulty 
here.  In  the  physical  sciences  we  have  the  concept 
energy  and  also  the  concept  of  the  transfer  of  one 
kind  of  energy  into  another,  as  heat  into  electricity, 
electricity  into  light,  etc.,  so  here  if  we  think  of  the 
libido  only  as  energy  we  will  be  on  safe  ground. 
Now  the  question  is,  To  what  use  is  the  energy  put? 
As  we  have  seen  that  all  libido  trends  may  be  classi- 
fied into  one  of  two  groups,  the  nutritional  and  the 
sexual,  the  question  becomes  more  specifically,  Is 
the  libido  being  used  for  self-preservation  (nutri- 
tional) or  race  perpetuation  (sexual)  ends? 

The  example  money,  which  I  have  already  used, 
shows  this  very  well.  Money  is  a  symbol  of  energy, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  is  energy,  that  is,  libido, 
bound  up  in  a  particular  symbol.  Now  money  may 
be  used  to  buy  bread  and  meat,  thus  using  it  as  nutri- 
tional libido,  or  it  may  be  used  to  maintain  a  home 
and  thus  be  used  for  race  perpetuation.  From  this 
point  of  view  Jung's  proposition  does  not  appear 
quite  so  self-evident.  Sucking  certainly  has  a  sexual 
goal  in  that  it  prepares  the  individual  for  becoming 
sexually  productive  while  the  sexual  act  equally  has 
a  nutritional  aspect  because  the  continued  suppres- 
sion of  sexuality  may  lead  either  to  illness  or  to 
such  a  distortion  of  the  personality  as  prevents  the 
fullest  expression  of  the  individual  as  such.  Of 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  321 

course  it  is  perfectly  evident,  however,  that  sucking 
is  preponderantly  nutritional  and  the  sexual  act  pre- 
ponderantly sexual.  The  situation  is  not  unlike  the 
symbolisation  of  the  conflict.  In  neurosis  and  in 
dreams  generally,  that  is,  in  all  psychological  phe- 
nomena dominated  by  the  unconscious,  the  symbol- 
isation of  the  regressive  tendency  of  the  libido  is 
overwhelmingly  in  evidence,  in  the  states  dominated 
by  clear  consciousness  the  symbolisation  of  the  pro- 
gressive tendency  is  by  far  the  most  prominent. 
The  important  point  is  that  in  neither  state  is  the 
symbolisation  of  the  submerged  tendency  wholly  ab- 
sent. So  it  is  with  other  libido  manifestations. 
While  any  given  act  may  be  preponderantly  nutri- 
tive or  sexual  it  is  also,  to  a  much  less  degree,  to  be 
sure,  the  other.  The  libido  tendencies  are  ambival- 
ant. 

This  view  is  strengthened  when  we  see  in  more 
primitive  conditions  and  in  regressive  phenomena 
the  nutritional  libido  serving  sexual  ends.  Many 
examples  of  this  have  been  given  throughout  the 
preceding  chapters,  for  example :  the  cloacal  theory 
of  birth,  eating  together  as  symbolising  the  sexual 
act,  the  belief  that  the  woman  is  impregnated  by 
what  she  eats,  that  urine  is  the  impregnating  fluid, 
etc.,  etc.  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  the  nature 
of  the  energy  per  se  as  of  the  uses  to  which  the 
energy  is  put. 

Now  we  come  to  the  vexed  question  of  why,  when 
the  libido  regresses,  it  should  regress  to  this,  that, 


322  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

or  the  other  stage  of  libido  development.  Why  it 
should  stop  at  one  place,  the  homosexual  for  example, 
rather  than  at  another.  This  question  can  be,  and 
has  been,  answered  in  a  variety  of  ways.  In  the  case 
cited  from  Jung,  at  some  length,  in  the  last  chapter, 
it  may  be  said  at  once  that  the  libido  went  back  until 
it  found  something  which  could  be  brought  upon  the 
stage  and  serve  the  purposes  of  the  individual. 
This  is  a  characteristic  hysterical  reaction  in  which 
the  whole  play  lies  very  close  to  consciousness  and 
in  the  main,  the  split  in  the  personality  is  superficial, 
at  least  so  far  as  such  symptoms  as  those  described, 
the  fright  at  the  horses,  is  concerned.  The  hysterical 
character  upon  which  such  occurrences  are  engrafted 
has  of  course  much  deeper  roots  but  symptoms  of 
the  same  general  character  as  those  connected  with 
the  fright  of  the  horses  really  reach  only  a  little  way 
beneath  the  surface.  They  are  characterised  too  by 
being  massive  in  character,  global,  that  is  they  refer 
to  events  as  such  rather  than  to  partial  libido  striv- 
ings and  therefore  have  much  more  apparent  mean- 
ing. In  the  face  of  a  desire,  too  great  to  be  ade- 
quately handled,  we  can  easily  understand  such  oc- 
currences. 

When  we  come  to  deal,  however,  with  the  sym- 
bolisation  of  the  partial  libido  strivings,  as  of  the 
homosexual,  narcissistic,  anal,  or  urethral  erotic  the 
results  are  no  longer  so  easily  understandable. 
They  seem  much  more  grotesque  and  unpsychologi- 
cal.  It  is  because  their  origins  are  much  more 
deeply  unconscious.  Why  should  the  libido  on  its 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  323 

regressive  path  stop  at  one  of  these  way  stations 
rather  than  another? 

In  the  first  place  we  have  seen  that  the  libido 
regresses,  the  individual  is  forced  back  upon  and 
within  himself,  because  he  has  met,  in  reality,  with 
a  barrier,  a  barrier  which  he  cannot  overcome,  and 
which  effectively  prevents  the  flow  of  libido  outward. 
A  partial  explanation  of  the  reason  for  the  libido 
seeking  exit  at  a  certain  place  rather  than  some 
other  is  that  it  will  be  forced  back  further  and 
further  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  barrier. 
This  is  true  but  only  in  part.  It  does  not  explain 
why  one  by-path  rather  than  another  should  be 
chosen  at  the  same  level.  Why,  for  example,  at  the 
autoerotic  level  the  skin  should  be  chosen  as  an 
avenue  for  finding  pleasure  rather  than  the  function 
of  emptying  the  bladder. 

In  addition,  therefore,  to  the  drive  back  from  with- 
out we  must  postulate  a  drag  back  from  within. 
What  is  the  nature  of  this  drag? 

Originally  the  drag  back  was  supposed  to  have 
been  conditioned  by  the  sexual  trauma,  that  is,  a 
highly  painful  emotionally  ladened  sexual  experience 
in  early  childhood.  This  theory,  however,  has  been 
definitely  abandoned  long  since.  In  its  place, 
though,  there  has  been  an  inclination  to  see  in  the 
drag  back  an  indication  that,  in  the  course  of  develop- 
ment the  libido  lingered  too  long  at  a  certain  point. 
Something  in  the  life  of  the  individual  will  show  that, 
for  some  reason,  there  was  a  special  interest  in  the 
particular  libido  expression  that  is  later  reanimated, 


324  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

in  the  neurosis  for  example.  This  is  expressed  by 
the  term  fixation.  There  has  been  a  certain  attach- 
ment of  the  libido  at  one  of  these  stations  along  the 
path  of  development  from  which  it  has  never  been 
quite  able  to  free  itself.  But  why  should  the  libido 
tend  to  form  such  a  limiting  attachment? 

We  may  answer  this  question  by  saying  that  it  is 
because  of  a  lack  of  development,  especially  of  affec- 
tive development.  While  it  is  true  that  this  is  really 
only  using  a  little  different  terminology  to  express 
the  observed  facts  still  it  does  help  in  their  compre- 
hension when  taken  in  connection  with  what  has 
been  said  about  the  correlation  of  the  neurotic,  the 
child  and  the  savage.  Then,  too,  it  is  really  a  valu- 
able point  of  view  in  approaching  a  patient  with  the 
object  of  trying  to  help. 

On  the  other  hand  the  question  can  be  answered, 
as  Adler  answers  it,  by  saying,  in  effect,  that  the 
libido  drops  back  to  that  place  which  is  subtended 
by  an  inferior  organ.  At  this  place  in  the  integra- 
tion of  the  individual  sublimation  is  least  secure, 
infantile  ways  of  seeking  pleasure  are  more  readily 
available,  and  so  the  libido  finds  a  way  out  here  by 
following,  in  its  regressive  course,  the  path  of  least 
resistance. 

Thus  we  see  the  constant  struggle  between  the 
opposing  motives  of  the  pain-pleasure  and  the  reality 
principles.  When  the  conflict  issues  in  a  successful 
resolution  then  man  is  pushed  along  on  the  path  of 
progress.  Success  is  most  complete  when  the  reality 
motive  derives  a  pleasure  premium  from  -the  pain- 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  325 

pleasure  motive  thus  securing  a  resolution  which 
satisfies  both  tendencies.1 

The  individual  is  born  into  the  world  a  member 
of  a  society  which  has  had  an  ages-long  period  of 
growth  and  development  and  finds  already  existing 
institutions,  beliefs,  standards  of  conduct  to  which 
he  must  make  adjustment.  We  have  seen  how  he 
has  had  to  progressively  renounce  omnipotence.  He 
has  had  not  only  to  do  that  but  he  has  had  also  to 
come  into  efficient  adjustment  to  those  standards 
which  he  finds  already  made.  These  standards  are, 
to  use  the  language  of  Trotter,2  the  standards  and 
requirements  of  the  "herd."  These  standards,  at 
first,  are  forced  upon  him  by  the  parents  and  the 
whole  home  situation,  particularly  by  the  authority 
of  the  father,  and  so  become  the  very  fibre  of  his 
being.  Herein  lies  the  reason  why  the  physician,  to 
reach  the  greatest  possible  degree  of  success,  must 
needs  be  symbolised  by  the  patient  as  his  father. 
The  father  image,  being  of  infantile  origin,  dating 
from  the  time  when  the  father  was  the  literal  source 
of  all  authority,  such  a  symbolisation  becomes  a 
great  source  of  power.  It  reaches  its  maximum 
when  the  character  of  the  physician  is  such  as  to 
inspire  the  highest  ideals.  As  the  child  grows  older 
and  begins  to  come  into  contact  with  the  world  out- 

1  Federn,  P. :     Some  General  Remarks  on  the  Principles  of  Pain- 
Pleasure  and  of  Reality.     The  Psychoanalytic  Review,  Jan.,  1915. 

2  Trotter,  W. :     Herd  Instinct  and  its  Bearing  on  the  Psychology 
of  Civilised  Man.     The  Sociological  Review,  July,  1908,  and  Socio- 
logical Application  of  the  Psychology  of  Herd  Instinct.     The  Socio- 
logical Review,  Jan.,  1909. 


326  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

side  the  family  there  too  he  finds  the  same  necessity, 
even  more  strongly  emphasised,  to  conform  to  stand- 
ards of  conduct  which  require  a  putting  off  and 
perhaps  a  thwarting  of  desires.  It  is  in  this  situa- 
tion that  Trotter  sees  the  origin  of  the  conflict.  For 
Trotter,  man  is  a  social  animal  and  the  herd  instinct 
is  one  of  the  ultimate,  unanalysable  components  as 
are  also  the  instincts  of  self-preservation,  nutrition, 
and  sex.  The  herd  instinct  has  as  its  object,  so  to 
speak,  to  provide  an  environment  in  which  the  indi- 
vidual can  find  the  fullest  personal  expression  just 
as  multicellularity  might  be  said  to  have  come  into 
existence  to  provide  for  the  greatest  measure  of 
variation  for  the  individual  cell.  The  cell  in  the  one 
case,  the  individual  in  the  other  pooled  their  issues. 
The  association  of  a  group  of  units,  be  they  cells 
or  individuals,  for  their  common  good,  implies  of 
necessity  that  each  member  of  the  group  should  give 
something,  really  should  give  up,  surrender  some- 
thing to  the  group  and  thereby  curtail  by  so  much 
his  own  individuality.  At  once  there  issues  the 
opposed  motives  for  conduct — individual  initiative 
and  submission  to  the  group  demands.  Herein  lies 
the  necessity  for  compromise  in  order  to  effect  an 
efficient  social  organisation.  The  group  grabs  onto 
and  tends  to  perpetuate  those  customs  that  serve  to 
maintain  its  integrity  and  by  so  doing  must  of  neces- 
sity run  counter  to  the  desires  of  a  considerable 
number  of  its  individual  constituents.  We  see  this 
in  those  fundamental  rules  of  conduct  passed  by 
legislatures — the  statutes.  A  given  statute  being  an 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  327 

attempt  to  formulate  a  given  general  principle  and 
reaching  its  final  pattern  only  after  a  series  of  com- 
promises can  hardly  be  expected  to  apply  to  the 
individual  situation  in  a  society  so  complex  as  ours. 
And  just  because  it  takes  so  much  time  and  energy 
to  effect,  even  such  an  imperfect  formulation,  the 
formulation  tends  always  to  lag  behind,  to  fail  to 
express  the  general  attitude  of  the  community  at 
any  given  time  subsequent  to  its  formulation.  The 
formulations  of  the  group  as  such,  therefore,  tend 
to  express  the  unconscious  of  the  people.  This  is 
very  plainly  seen  in  the  phenomena  of  the  crowd, 
so-called,  when,  for  example,  the  conviction  and  exe- 
cution of  an  individual  is  demanded  because  he  has 
offended  the  mores,  the  moral  standards  of  the  herd. 
Under  such  circumstances  there  is  an  absolute  inabil- 
ity to  even  listen  to  a  judicial  statement  of  the  case 
from  the  point  of  the  defence.  The  unconscious 
hate  of  the  mob  requires  a  victim,  a  scapegoat. 
Listening  to  the  argument  might  convince  and  so 
rob  it  of  the  satisfaction  of  this  primitive  desire, 
so  they  refuse  to  listen.3 

The  condition  of  the  individual  man  in  the  social 
milieu  is  therefore  a  condition  of  conflict  in  which 
he  is  called  upon  constantly  to  make  certain  conces- 
sions to  the  herd  at  the  expense  of  his  own  individual 
desires.  While  the  situation  has  its  undoubted 
advantages  as  already  indicated,  no  great  advances 

3  For  a  learned  anthropological  discussion  of  the  meaning  of  the 
scapegoat  symbol  read  Frazer,  J.  G.:  "The  Golden  Bough,"  (3rd 
ed.)  Pt.  VI,  The  Scapegoat. 


328  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

could  have  been  effected  without  it,  it  likewise  has 
its  disadvantages  which  are  similar  to  those  pointed 
out  for  the  prolongation  of  the  period  of  infancy 
(Chapter  VII).  The  formulations  of  the  herd  tend 
to  fixity  and  therefore  make  individual  progress 
exceedingly  difficult  when  it  would  transcend  them. 
It  tends  to  keep  the  individual  at  the  level  of  the 
herd,  within  the  realm  of  the  known,  of  the  certain. 

This  tendency  to  keep  individual  conduct  within 
the  confines  of  that  sanctioned  by  the  herd  has  its 
advantages.  It  means  that  the  great  body  of  indi- 
vidual tendencies  to  vary  from  this  standard  are 
wiped  out,  such  variations  as  those  that  pertain  to 
the  so-called  insane  and  criminal  classes  for  instance. 
Therefore  any  variation  that  succeeds  must  do  so 
because,  in  the  last  analysis,  it  is  valuable  to  the 
herd.  Such  a  variation  must  at  first  offend  the  herd 
and  can  only  succeed  at  the  expense  of  a  more  or 
less  strenuous  conflict  which  has  the  function  of 
dragging  the  whole  thing  into  consciousness  and  so 
effecting  a  resolution.  As  such  resolutions  only  in 
time  become  the  points  of  departure  for  new  con- 
flicts, at  a  higher  plane,  so  man  both  as  an  individual 
and  as  a  member  of  the  social  group  must  of  neces- 
sity hold  the  large  majority  of  his  convictions  at  any 
particular  time  on  faith,  that  is  his  belief  in  them  is 
directed  by  motives  that  are  unconscious. 

Opinions  which  are  held  as  a  result  of  unconscious 
motivation  and  those  which  come  as  the  result  of 
experience  carefully  controlled  in  a  state  of  mind  of 
clear,  conscious  awareness  are  readily  distinguish- 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  329 

able.  As  Trotter  puts  it,  the  former  are  dis- 
tinguished by  a  feeling  of  certitude  and  a  belief  that 
it  would  be  absurd,  obviously  unnecessary,  unprofit- 
able, undesirable,  bad  form  or  wicked  to  inquire  into 
them.  The  latter  lack  this  feeling  of  certitude  and 
feeling  of  profound  truth  and  there  is  no  reluctance 
to  admitting  inquiry  into  them.  That  heavy  bodies 
fall  and  fire  burns  are  verifiable  and  inquiry  into 
these  phenomena  is  not  resented  whereas  inquiry 
into  the  belief  of  survival  after  death  may  be  re- 
sented as  disreputable  and  wicked. 

Individualism  and  gregariousness  are  thus  the 
two  elements  of  the  conflict  out  of  which  progress 
must  come  at  the  social  level.  Gregariousness  set- 
ting the  standard  of  normality  from  which  man 
varies  at  his  peril.  Most  variants  are  eliminated  as 
insane,  defective,  criminal,  sick  or  what  not;  but 
there  occasionally  arises  the  superman,  the  man  of 
genius  who  symbolises  his  whole  group,  perhaps 
only  two  or  three  persons,  a  small  society  of  artists, 
the  business  in  a  certain  section  of  the  country,  a 
political  unit  or  perhaps  a  whole  nation,  and  so,  by 
concentration  of  energy  from  many  sources  accord- 
ing to  the  mechanisms  described  (Chapter  XII),  is 
able  to  drag  the  whole  situation  to  a  little  higher 
level.  If  the  man  is  great  enough,  controls  a  large 
enough  group,  he  may  become  a  national  hero  and 
so  serve  after  his  death  to  stand  as  a  symbol  of  the 
nation's  ideals.  As  time  goes  on  the  apotheosis  of 
the  hero  becomes  more  complete  as  it  becomes  in- 
creasingly easier  to  hitch  ideals  to  his  memory,  the 


330  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

reality  having  long  since  faded  into  such  vagueness 
as  to  offer  no  obstacles. 

I  am  nearing  the  end  of  my  presentation.  I  have 
tried  to  draw  a  picture  of  man  that  gave  him  his 
placement  in  the  scheme  of  things  and  did  not 
endeavour  to  separate  him  from  other  living  beings 
nor  from  the  forces  of  nature  in  general.  In  other 
words,  I  have  tried  to  show  that  he  was  only  one  of 
the  multitudinous  manifestations  of  life  and  even 
that  the  general  laws  of  energy,  as  they  apply  in  the 
inorganic  world,  are  also  applicable  here.  In  the 
particular  human  centre  for  energy  transformation 
I  have  traced  its  various  expressions  as  it  progres- 
sively compassed  more  complex,  varied  and  subtle 
adaptations  until  the  level  of  consciousness  was 
reached.  In  this  whole  exposition  I  have  tried  to 
show  that  what  was  really  going  on,  was  at  bottom 
a  redistribution  of  energy  and  that  at  the  psychologi- 
cal level  the  agent  of  this  redistribution,  the  energy 
carrier  is  the  symbol. 

Metabolism  experiments  have  seemed  to  indicate 
that  the  total  amount  of  energy  used  by  the  body 
was  received  in  the  food  and  the  indications  are  that 
an  adequate  diet,  expressed  in  terms  of  energy, 
amounts  to  30  to  45  calories  per  kilogram  of  body 
weight  or,  on  the  average,  about  2500  calories  for  the 
twenty-four  hours.  A  somewhat  less  abstract  ex- 
pression of  the  amount  of  energy  needed  is  in  the 
terms  of  alcohol  burned.  The  energy  evolved  by  a 
lamp  burning  300  grams  of  absolute  alcohol  in  a 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  331 

day 4  would  represent  approximately  the  amount  of 
energy  needed  by  the  average  human  being. 

While  such  statements  as  these  are  correct  in  a 
way  they  may  lead  to  somewhat  of  a  misapprehen- 
sion. As  I  have  already  suggested,  apropos  of 
Fabre  's  spiders,  it  seems  quite  possible  that  we  have 
neglected  to  take  into  account  the  possible  sources 
of  energy  derived  through  the  multitudinous  forms 
of  receptors.  Herrick5  gives  us  a  list,  admittedly 
incomplete,  of  some  twenty-seven  varieties  which 
are  capable  of  analysing  the  environment  through  a 
perfectly  tremendous  register  reaching  all  the  way 
from  the  simple  touch,  through  sound  vibrations  as 
rapid  as  30,000  per  second,  to  those  ethereal  vibra- 
tions producing  sensations  of  light  and  colour  and 
reaching  the  extreme  limit  of  perception  only  at  a 
rate  of  800,000  billion  per  second. 

The  number  of  calories  needed  by  the  individual 
as  determined  by  metabolism  experiments  seems 
quite  inadequate  to  account  for  the  work  the  indi- 
vidual is  able  to  do,  certainly  when  we  think  of  the 
results  that  mental  work  may  bring  about.  It  would 
seem  that  the  individual  was  a  highly  specialised 
organism  for  the  purpose  of  transmitting  and  trans- 
muting energy  and  that  the  energy  taken  in  by  the 
food,  and  expressed  as  calories,  was  for  the  purpose 
of  the  up-keep  of  this  machine  only.  In  other  words, 

*  Stiles,  P.  G.:     "Nutritional  Physiology,"  1915. 
6  Herrick,  C.  J.:     "An  Introduction  to  Neurology."    Philadelphia, 
W.  B.  Saunders  Co.,  1915. 


332  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

the  various  avenues  of  discharge  of  energy  through 
the  body,  the  nerve  fibres  and  what  not,  are  only,  so 
to  speak,  wires  along  which  the  messages  which  come 
from  the  receptors  may  be  transmitted.  The  nerve 
cells  have  often  been  likened  to  batteries  which 
created  the  energy  used  by  the  individual  which  they 
discharged  along  these  pathways.  It  seems  more 
probable  that  they  are  much  more  like  the  batteries 
which  supply  the  current  to  a  telegraph  or  telephone 
wire,  only  supplying  enough  current  to  insure  the 
efficient  transmission  of  messages.  The  energy 
which  is  liberated  by  the  pulling  of  a  fire  box  in  a 
city  could  hardly  be  accounted  for  by  the  batteries 
connected  with  the  fire  alarm  circuit.  The  nerve 
cells,  if  this  conception  is  true,  only  elaborate  energy 
for  the  up-keep  of  their  respective  circuits,  that  is, 
the  various  branches  of  the  neuron,  and  so  keep  all 
the  lines  alive  for  instant  response. 

This  will  become  a  little  clearer  by  an  illustration 
at  the  psychic  level.  The  influence  which  a  man 
exercises  upon  his  fellows  and  upon  his  time  may 
often  extend  over  a  considerable  period  after  he  is 
dead.  We  are  still  influenced  to  a  very  large  extent, 
almost  altogether,  by  the  ideas  and  ideals  which  have 
been  formulated  and  expressed  by  word,  precept  or 
example  by  those  who  have  gone  before.  The  enor- 
mous energy  releasing  capacity  of  an  idea  can  hardly 
receive  its  final  explanation  in  the  caloric  intake  of 
the  individual  who  first  formulated  it  or  even  in  the 
amount  of  energy  elaborated  by  his  individual  nerve 
cells.  It  can  only  be  understood  if  we  think  of  the 


SUMMARY  AND  SYNTHESIS  333 

individual,  not  as  separated  from  all  other  indi- 
viduals and  from  the  rest  of  matter  animate  and 
inanimate,  but  as  a  vehicle  for  the  transformation 
of  energy  which  streams  through  him  along  the  paths 
laid  down  and  effects  its  peculiar  results  because  it 
has  been  transformed. 

The  peculiar  results  in  which  energy  manifests 
itself  are  dependent  upon  the  specialisation  of  the 
human  machine,  upon  the  specific  pathways  for 
energy  discharge  which  have  been  laid  down.  It 
can  further  be  understood  by  the  histological  struc- 
ture of  the  nervous  system  and  the  physiological 
variation  in  synaptic  resistances,  which  either  con- 
centrates the  energy  along  the  line  of  discharge  of  a 
final  common  path  (Sherrington)  or  spreads  it  out 
to  influence  widely  separate  structures  (the  law  of 
avalanche  of  Cajal).  But  no  such  explanation  based 
upon  the  number  of  calories  absorbed  from  the  food 
is  possibly  adequate  to  account  for  the  tremendous 
release  of  energy  in  the  community  as  a  result  of  the 
single  word  "fire." 

The  symbol  is  the  vehicle  for  the  carrying  of 
energy  from  person  to  person,  from  the  past  to  the 
present  and  into  the  future.  The  symbol  "patriot- 
ism" may  release  the  energies  of  a  whole  nation 
just  as  in  the  individual  the  symbol  "contest"  may 
mobilise  the  liver  sugar  and  discharge  it  into  the 
blood  to  provide  energy  for  the  extra  exertion  ex- 
pected of  the  muscles.  Cannon 6  and  Fiske  analysed 
the  urine  of  a  football  squad  after  the  game  and 

6  Loc.  cit. 


334  CHARACTER  FORMATION 

found  sugar  in  twelve  cases.  It  is  significant  that 
five  of  those  cases  were  of  substitutes  who  had  not 
been  called  upon  to  enter  the  game  at  all  and  finally 
one  excited  spectator,  whose  urine  was  examined, 
also  showed  glycosuria  which  disappeared  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Similar  results  have  been  reached  with 
reference  to  other  exertions,  such  as  examinations. 
The  energy  bound  up  and  concentrated  in  the  symbol 
is  hardly  capable  of  measurement  by  the  crude 
methods  of  calorimetry. 

The  energetics  of  the  symbolic  level  is  the  new 
avenue  of  approach  to  an  understanding  of  man. 
The  problems  of  this  field  must  be  approached  from 
the  standpoint  of  genetics  and  by  the  use  of  concepts 
which  are  dynamic  as  opposed  to  static.  The  ap- 
proach on  its  philosophical  side  must  be  controlled 
by  an  attitude  which  is  at  once  pragmatic  and,  above 
all,  humanistic. 

It  is  no  longer  sufficient  to  consider  some  single 
aspect  of  human  functioning  alone  and  by  itself;  it 
has  to  be  related  to  the  problem  of  the  whole  indi- 
vidual, considered  from  the  standpoint  of  the  goal 
of  the  individual  as  a  whole,  rather  than  the  immedi- 
ate object  of  the  function.  Man  is  pre-eminently  a 
social  animal  and  the  struggle  for  existence  and  for 
fulfilment  has  become,  more  than  ever  before,  a 
struggle  at  psychological  and  social  levels :  he  must 
then  be  considered  from  these  standpoints  to  under- 
stand what  is  taking  place.  The  great  artists,  poets, 
dramatists,  novelists,  have  always  treated  man  in 
this  way.  It  remains  for  the  psychologists  to  follow 


335 

in  their  lead  and  realise  that  only  by  considering 
man  as  a  whole,  by  studying  each  part  only  as  bear- 
ing upon  the  problem  of  the  whole,  can  the  larger 
meanings  of  his  activities  be  interpreted. 


Abel,  68,  69. 

Abraham,  K.,    165,    171. 

Abstraction,  84. 

Act  as  an  end  product,  95. 

Adaptation,    22. 

Adjustment,   22. 

Adler,    A.,    100,    246,    251,    252, 

263,   277,   278,  279,  308,   309, 

324. 

Adrenalin,  255. 
Affect  of  dream,  142. 
Affective    development,    lack    of, 

324. 

Affectivity,  retardation  of,   290. 
Agents     for     transmitting     and 

transmuting  energy,   115. 
Aggressionstrieb,  278. 
Allmacht  der  Gedanken,  180. 
Ambivalency,   67,   70,   313. 
Ambivalent    type    of     reaction, 

165. 

Amnesia,  288. 
Anal   erotic,   relation   of   money 

to,  201. 

Anal  eroticism,  199. 
Analogy,  reasoning  by,  102. 
Anderson,  H.  M.,  262. 
Animism,  97,   304. 
Anxiety,  273. 
Apperceptive  mass,  82. 
Aristotle,  121,  279. 
Autoerotic  barrier,   198. 
Autoeroticism,  197. 
Automatic   activity,   29. 
Automatisms,     proving     ground 

of,  30. 


Awareness,  30. 
A/am,   5. 

Bain,  68. 

Barker,  L.  F.,  247. 

Bates,  W.  H.,  254. 

Bazeley,   J.  H.,   262. 

Beethoven,  249. 

Bergson,  H.,  211,  221,  243. 

Bernheim,  4. 

Bertschinger,  H.,   141. 

Beunis,  4. 

Binet,  A.,  6. 

Bisexuality   of   symbols,   99. 

Bleuler,  67,  69. 

Bolton,  J.  S.,  11,  260. 

Bourru,  5. 

Braid,  4. 

Breuer,    12. 

Burot,  5. 

Cannon,  W.  B.,  255,  256,  333. 

Carelessness,  202. 

Cathartic  cleansings,  313. 

Censor,  endopsyehic,  132,  143. 

Ceremonials,  84. 

Character,  58. 

Character  traits,  277. 

Charcot,  4. 

Child,     attachment    to     family, 

147,  152. 

Classification,  45,  47. 
Compensation,  249,  277. 
Complex,  38,  187. 
Complex,  incest,  114. 
Compromise,  326. 


337 


338 


INDEX 


Concepts  as  symbols,   116. 

Condensation,  132,  134,  136 

Conduct,   25,    103,   264. 

Conflict,  42,  57,  62,  70,  72,  74, 
121,  307,  318. 

Conflict,  moment  of,  30;  reso- 
lution of,  140,  270. 

Conflicts,   168;    of  neurotics,  99. 

Conscious  motives,  test  of,  328. 

Consciousness,  34,  40,  41,  115, 
317;  appearance  of,  30,  31; 
as  compensation,  272;  discon- 
tinuity of,  35;  as  energy,  33; 
as  expression  of  conflict,  31; 
field  of,  32;  retraction  of 
field  of,  7;  as  incipient 
anxiety,  273;  lapses  of,  36; 
now  of,  58;  race,  32,  60;  as 
remedial,  273;  splitting  of, 
36. 

Cortical   reactions,   51. 

Crile,  G.  W.,  257. 

Criminal,  328. 

Curiosity,  198,  212. 


Darwin,  82. 

Death,  271. 

Deckphenomene,  250. 

Decomposition,   136. 

Delusions  of  grandeur,  191;  in 
paresis,  191. 

Delusions  of  influence,   186. 

Dementia   paralytica,   260. 

Demosthenes,   250. 

Determinism,    14. 

Diabetes  mellitus,  256. 

Diagram  of  forces,   19. 

Disease,  33;  entities,  33;  proc- 
esses, 33. 

Disorderliness,  202. 

Displacement,   131,    142. 

Dissociation,    10,   36. 

Distortion,    131,    142. 


Dream,  function  of,  128;  im- 
portance of,  144;  latent  con- 
tent of,  130,  142;  manifest 
content  of,  130,  142;  pre- 
lusory  function  of,  141 ; 
secondary  elaboration  of,  131, 
142;  teleological  significance 
of,  138,  139,  140. 

Dream  material,   127. 

Dream   mechanisms,    117,    318. 

Dream  work,   140. 

Dreams  of  death  of  parent,  162. 

Dreams,  triviality  of,    128. 

Dufay,  5. 

Economy,  200. 

Ego-concept,   230. 

Egotism,  191. 

Elan  vital,  42. 

Electra  complex,  149,  151. 

Ellis,  H.,  126. 

Emerson,  101. 

Emotions,    52;    antipathic,    156, 

212. 

Energy,  317. 

Energy,  nature  vs.  uses  of,  321. 
Energy   transfers    in    resolution 

of  conflict,   315. 
Eppinger,  67. 
Erogenous  zones,  199. 
Exhibitionism,    198,    212. 
Exogamy,  49. 
Extroversion,  217,  220. 

Fabre,  J.  H.,  242. 

Fact,   psychological,   292. 

Fairy  tales,   172. 

Falta,   W.,   257. 

Family,   Holy,  224. 

Family    neurotic    romance,    148, 

158. 

Family  romance,   145. 
Fear,  250. 
Feeling  of  influence,  233. 


INDEX 


339 


Ferenczi,  S.,  91,   108,   128,   177, 

186. 

Tildes,   P.,   262. 
Fiske,  J.,  145,  333. 
Fixation,  324. 
Flournoy,  6,  310. 
Folk-lore,  172,  173. 
Fore-conscious,  37,  54,  58. 
Fore-pleasure,   198. 
Frazer,  J.  G.,  236. 
Freud,    S.,    12,    126,    135,    143, 

163,  212,  213,  262,  294,  319. 
Friedmann,  11. 
Function  of  the  real,  9. 

Genetic  method,  15. 

Gierlich,  11. 

Glueck,  B.,   193. 

Gluttony,    212. 

Glycosuria,   256. 

God,  224. 

Gottmensch    complex,    190,   212; 

ambivalent      expressions      of, 

192;  basis  of,   193. 
Grandparents,  168. 
Gregariousness,  329. 
Gregory,  M.  S.,  282. 

Haddon,  A.  C.,  86. 

Hall,   G.   S.,  39,   167,   229,  248, 

272,  310. 
Hate,  202,  212. 
Hates,  168. 
Heaven,  45,  224. 
Hegelian  formula,  274. 
Herd,  325,  328. 
Herd  instinct,  43. 
Hero,  171,  329. 
Herrick,  C.  J.,  31,  331. 
Hess,  67. 

Heteromorphosis,   18. 
Heterosexual  love,  198. 
Hierarchy  of  organs,  196. 
Homosexuality,   197,  212. 


Hope   and   fear    as    creators    of 

consciousness,  274. 
Horme",  42. 
Humbleness,  190. 
Hypnoidal  state,  10. 
Hypnotic  state,  36. 
Hypnotism,  3,  10. 
Hysteria,  7,  10. 

"I"  and  "not  I,"  186,  197. 
Ibsen,  174. 

Idea,  332;  as  symbol,  115. 
Ideas,    37,    87;    of    persecution, 

226. 

Identification,  134,  136. 
Immortality,  271. 
Immunity,  263. 
Incest,    153,    155,    197;    barrier, 

198;  complex,  294;  horror  of, 

212;  taboos,  154. 
Individual    as    biological    unit, 

24,    266;     the    concept,    239; 

relation  to  environment,  21. 
Individualism,  329. 
Infantile  characteristics,  187. 
Inferiority,  sense  of,  250,  277. 
Insane,  328. 
Instinct,  306. 

Integration,   22;    lessened   capa- 
city for,  233. 
Introjection,  186,  233. 
Introversion,   217,   228,  285;    of 

libido,  97. 

James,  W.,  218. 
Janet,  P.,  7,  12,  249. 
Jealousies,  168. 
Jehovah  complex,  190. 
Jelliffe,  S.  E.,  172. 
Jung,  C.  G.,  219,  286,  311,  319, 
320,  322. 

Kant,  20. 

Kempf,  E.  J.,  65,  113,  203. 


340 


INDEX 


Kidd,  B.,  91. 
Kleist,  11. 
Kleptomania,  198. 
Kraepelin,  11,  193. 

Laudator  temporis  acti,  183. 

Law  of  avalanche,  333. 

Le  Chatelier,  theorem  of,  64, 
270. 

Levels  of  adjustment  and  inte- 
gration, 22;  cultural,  232;  re- 
action, 109,  196. 

Libido,  42,  73,  98,  153,  196,  317; 
energic  concept  of,  93;  as 
energy,  320;  introversion  of, 
97;  nutritional,  153,  196,  203, 
319;  progressive,  312;  re- 
gressive, 312;  sexual,  153, 
196,  197,  203,  319;  strivings, 
partial,  195,  318. 

Li£bault,  4. 

Liegeois,  4. 

Loeb,  17. 

Looking,  198. 

Love,  153,  169,  197;  and  hate, 
202. 

Lust,  212. 

Lustprinzip,  56. 

Luys,  4. 

MacNish,  5. 

Maeder,  310,  311,  312. 

Magic,  85;  rites,  189;  thinking, 

180;  words,  180. 
Masculinity,  complete,   277. 
Masturbation,  203. 
Mclntosh,  J.,  262. 
Mencken,  H.  L.,  218. 
Mental  disease,  1;   classification 

of,  2. 

Mesmer,  3. 

Metabolism  experiments,  330. 
Micromanic  ideas,   193. 
Mother-in-law,   166. 


Mott,  262. 
Mozart,  249. 
Multiple  personality,  5. 
Mystery,  sense  of,  234. 
Mythology,  172. 
Myths,  171. 

Name,  231. 
Naming,  3. 
Narcissism,  197. 
Neatness,  201. 
Negativism,  72. 
Neurosis,  278. 
Nietzsche,  100,  217,  219. 

Obeisances,  84. 

Obersteiner,  H.,  261,  263. 

Object  love,   197. 

Obstinacy,  200. 

Odin,  250. 

(Edipus  complex,  149,  174. 

Opposites,  path  of,  272. 

Orderliness,  200.- 

Organ,  inferior,  308;  infer- 
iority, 245. 

Organism  as  transmitter  and 
transformer  of  energy,  110. 

Origin  of  life,  206. 

Omnipotence,  203;  magic-hallu- 
cinatory, 178;  unconditioned, 
177;  with  help  of  magic 
gestures,  179. 

Omniscience,   198. 

Osier,  W.,  257. 

Ostwald,  W.,  217,  219. 

Overdetermination,   132. 

Pain,  272. 

Papyri    of    Philonous,    2,     121, 

222. 

Paranoia,  226. 
Paranoiac  traits,  166. 
Past,  evidences  of  the,  214. 
Pawlow,   263. 


INDEX 


341 


Personality,  7;  definition  of,  96; 

loss  of  definiteness  of,  233. 
Perversions,  303. 
Petrarch,  215. 
Phantasy,  288;    formation,   119; 

object     of,     305;     teleological 

function  of,  310. 
Phantasies,  fecal,  200;    urinary, 

200. 

Phratries,  49. 
Physician,   faith   in,   223. 
Plateau,  19. 

Pleasure,  199;  principle,  56. 
Pleasures  of  expulsion,  203. 
Pompousness,  198,  212. 
Pousse"e  vitale,  42. 
Predisposition,   289. 
Prince,  6,  11. 
Projection,  225. 
Protagoras,    222. 
Psychasthenia,  7,  8,  9. 
Psyche,     62,     318;     as     energy, 

115;    hegemony   of,    196. 
Psychoanalysis,  function  of,  100. 
Psychological     level,     24;     ten- 
sion,   8,   9;    type   of   reaction, 

25. 

Psychology,  parallelistic,  260. 
Psychopathology,  descriptive,  3; 

interpretative,  3. 
Psycho-physical  parallelism,  267. 
Psychosis,  naming  of,  2. 

Race-perpetuation,  153,  196. 
Rank,  0.,  156,  171. 
Reality,  50;  principle,  56. 
Realitatsprinzip,  56. 
Reasoning  by  analogy,  102. 
Re-birth,  184. 

Recapitulation,  law  of,  236. 
Reflex,    29;    action,    263;    condi- 
tioned, 264. 
Regicides,  166. 
Regression,  286,  301,  304. 


Relations  of  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, 167;  of  children  to 
parents,  156. 

Religion,  224. 

Repression,  42,  62,  71. 

Resymbolisation,    141. 

Reversed  parentage  phantasy, 
168,  275. 

Root  complex,   295. 

Sadism,  202. 

Scapegoat,  327. 

Secondary  states,  5,  37. 

Self-assertiveness,   191,   198. 

"Self"  and  "not  self,"  180,  228. 

Self-preservation,  153,  196. 

Self-sufficiency,  191. 

Sexual,  importance  of,  97. 

Sexuality,  polymorphous  per- 
verse, 199;  of  symbolism,  97. 

Shakespeare,  227. 

Sherrington,  126,  333. 

Shinn,  M.  W.,  229,  230. 

Shock  theory,  289. 

School  of  Nancy,  4. 

Schopenhauer,   74,  278. 

Sicherungstendenz,  278. 

Sidis,  B.,  6,  11,  12. 

Slovenliness,  202. 

Social  psychology,  269. 

Society,  325. 

Socrates,  250. 

Somnambulism,   hysterical,    10. 

Southard,   E.  E.,  261. 

Spencer,  H.,  84. 

Sub-conscious,   36. 

Sublimation,  42,  98,  279. 

Sub-totems,  46. 

Success,  324. 

Symbol  accumulates  energy  of 
conflict,  313;  as  carrier  of 
energy,  114,  280,  309,  333; 
energic  value  of,  108,  223;  as 
energy  transmitter,  113; 


342 


INDEX 


function  of,  316;  phylo- 
genetic  meaning  of,  108;  spe- 
cial advantage  of,  in  develop- 
ment, 112. 

Symbolic  level,  energetics  of, 
334. 

Symbolisation,  305,  319,  321; 
object  of,  307. 

Symbolism,  56,  76;  fundamental 
principle  of,  81;  sexuality  of, 
97;  and  the  unconscious,  87. 

Symbols,  anagogic,  interpreta- 
tion of,  106;  bi-polarity  of, 
279;  of  fore-conscious,  87; 
interpretation  of,  101;  pic- 
torial, 86;  psychoanalytic  in- 
terpretation of,  106;  super- 
ficial interpretation  of,  105; 
of  unconscious,  88,  91. 

Tenderness,   212. 

Thalamic  reactions,  51. 

Thinking,  concrete  way  of,  83; 
conscious,  89;  magic,  180; 
two  ways  of,  118;  uncon- 
scious ways  of,  93. 

Thought,  all-powerfulness  of, 
177,  186,  318. 

Totemism,  46,  185. 


Totems,  46. 
Touching,  198. 
Traumatic  moment,  292. 
Trial  and  error,  50. 
Tropisms,  18. 
Tyr,  250. 

Ubertragung,  226. 

Uncleanliness,    202. 

Unconscious,  35,  37,  39,  43,  50, 
54,  58,  89,  90,  92,  107,  120, 
204;  action  controlled  by,  61; 
criteria  of,  94;  motives,  test 
of,  328;  symbolism  and  the, 
87. 

Unconsciousness,  36. 

Urethral  erotic,  203. 

Urim  and  Thummim,  70. 

Vidar,  250. 
Vulcan,  250. 

Wernicke,  11. 
White,  A.  D.,  212. 
White,  W.  A.,  6,  11,  12. 
Will  to  power,  177,  195,  258. 
Wish,  120. 

Yih  King,  69. 


FEINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   0V   AMERICA 


THE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a  few 
of  the  Macmillan  books  on  kindred  subjects. 


THREE  IMPORTANT  BOOKS  BY 

HENRY  H.  GODDARD 

Director  of  the  Research  Laboratory  of  the  Training  School  at  Vine- 
land,  N.  J.,  for  Feeble-Minded  Girls  and  Boys 


:  Its  Causes  and  Consequences 

Cloth,  8vo,  599  pages,  $4.50 

It  differs  from  most  of  those  in  the  field  in  that  it  is  what  may  be 
termed  a  source  study.  Instead  of  generalizing  on  the  subject  of 
f  eeble-mindedness,  presenting  arguments  for  this  theory  and  that  and 
concluding  with  vague  speculations,  Dr.  Goddard  gives  facts.  The 
book  is  so  comprehensive  in  scope  and  the  cases  exhibit  such  a  variety 
of  disorders  that  not  infrequently  will  the  parent,  the  teacher,  and  all 
who  have  to  do  with  incorrigible,  delinquent,  or  unfortunate  children 
encounter  characteristics  similar  to  those  displayed  by  the  subjects 
discussed  by  Dr.  Goddard.  This  work,  therefore,  contains  a  thorough 
consideration  of  this  vital  subject  which  was  so  interestingly  pre- 
sented, in  the  case  of  a  single  family,  in  the  author's  former  book, 
"The  Kallikak  Family." 


The  Kallikak  Family 


A  STUDY  IN  THE  HEREDITY  OF  FEEBLE-MINDEDNESS 

Cloth,  8vo,  $1.60 

"No  more  striking  example  of  the  supreme  force  of  heredity  could 
be  desired." — The  Dial. 

"The  most  illuminating  and  complete  of  all  the  studies  in  heredity 
that  have  ever  been  made,  with  the  view  of  showing  the  descent  of 
mental  deficiency." — Bulletin  of  the  Medical  and  Chirurgical  Faculty 
of  Maryland. 

"This  is  the  most  convincing  of  the  sociological  studies  brought  out 
by  the  eugenics  movement." — The  Independent. 

"Dr.  Goddard  has  made  a  'find' ;  and  he  has  also  had  the  training 
which  enables  him  to  utilize  his  discovery  to  the  utmost." — American 
Journal  of  Psychology. 

The  Criminal  Imbecile 

Illustrated,  Cloth,  izmo,  $1.60 

This  is  an  analysis  of  three  murder  cases,  in  which  the  Binet  tests 
were  used,  accepted  in  court  and  the  accused  adjudged  imbeciles  in 
the  legal  sense  (scientifically,  morons).  Three  types  of  defectives  are 
illustrated  in  the  three  cases.  Responsibility  is  discussed.  The  book 
is  important  to  all  practitioners  in  psychiatry,  students  of  feeble-mind- 
edness  and  social  problems,  and  to  criminal  lawyers. 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers     64-66  Pifth  Avenue     New  York 


The  Sexual  Life  of  the  Child 

BY  DR.  ALBERT  MOLL 

Translated  from  the  German  by  DR.  EDEN  PAUL,  with  an 
introduction  by  EDWARD  L.  THORNDIKE, 

Professor  of  Educational  Psychology,  Teachers  College,  Columbia 

University 

Cloth,  S39  PP-,  index,  ismo,  $1.75 

The  translation  of  this  book  will  be  welcomed  by  men  and  women 
from  many  different  professions,  but  alike  in  the  need  of  preparation 
to  guide  the  sex-life  of  boys  and  girls  and  to  meet  emergencies  caused 
by  its  corruption  by  weakness  within  or  attack  from  without.  Dr. 
Moll's  book  is  a  vital  contribution  to  the  awakening  interest  in  sexual 
life,  and  an  undoubted  aid  to  the  practicing  physician. 

The  Medical  Times  says :  "After  reading  a  great  variety  of  trash 
on  the  subject  of  sexual  education  of  the  boys  and  girls  of  this  gen- 
eration, it  is  a  pleasure  to  have  the  subject  taken  up  in  a  frank,  open, 
dignified  manner  by  Dr.  Moll.  He  leads  one  through  the  mazes  of  the 
sexual  development  of  the  child,  and  so  cleverly  analyzes  its  real  feel- 
ings that  one  instinctively  feels  one's  self  well  qualified  to  interpret 
child  psychology  and  to  apply  the  lessons  gained  therefrom." 

A  Textbook  of  Insanity 

BY  CHARLES  MERCIER,  M.D. 

Lecturer  on  Insanity  at  the  Medical  Schools  of  the  Westminster  Hos- 
pital, Charing  Cross  Hospital,  and  the  Royal  Free  Hospital 

New  Second  Edition.    Cloth,  izmo,  348  pp.,  $2.25 

The  new  edition  of  Dr.  Mercier's  authoritative  work  on  insanity 
will  be  found  much  extended  in  scope  and  practically  rewritten.  The 
author  is  probably  one  of  the  best  known  British  Alienists,  whose 
methods  of  instruction  have  been  of  great  assistance  to  the  student. 

The  aim  of  the  book  is  to  supply  a  long-needed  want,  namely,  that 
of  a  textbook  in  compact  form  for  the  use  of  students.  The  author 
has  made  a  distinction  between  forms  of  insanity  and  varieties  of 
insanity,  a  distinction  which  removes  the  difficulties  of  classification 
which  have  been  so  great  a  stumbling  block  to  writers  on  insanity  for 
generations. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers     64-66  Fifth  Avenue     New  York 


The  Interpretation  of  Dreams 

BY  PROFESSOR  SIGMUND  FREUD,  M.D.,  LL.D. 

Formerly  Professor  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Diseases  in  the  University 

of  Vienna 

Translated  by  A.  A.  BRILL,  Ph.B.,  M.D. 

Chief  of  the  Neurological  Department  Bronx  Hospital  and  Dispen- 
sary ;  Clinical  Assistant  in  Psychiatry  and  Neurology,  College 
of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  New  York 

Cloth,  510  pp.,  index,  literary  index,  8vo,  $4.00 

The  general  advance  in  the  study  of  abnormal  mental 
processes  has  called  particular  attention  to  the  dream,  whose 
riddle  has  been  solved  by  Professor  Freud,  the  noted  neu- 
rologist at  the  University  of  Vienna,  in  connection  with  his 
study  of  nervous  and  mental  diseases.  Professor  Freud  as- 
serts that  dreams  are  perfect  psychological  mechanisms  and 
are  neither  foolish  nor  useless.  He  found  that  dreams 
when  analyzed  by  his  method,  exposed  the  most  intimate 
recesses  of  personality,  and  that,  in  the  study  of  nervous 
and  mental  diseases,  it  is  mainly  through  dreams  that  the 
symptoms  of  the  disease  can  be  explained  and  cured.  This 
epoch-making  book  furnishes  many  useful  and  interesting 
contributions  to  the  study  and  treatment  of  nervous  and 
mental  diseases  and  is  most  valuable  to  physicians  and 
psychologists. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers      64-66  Fifth  Avenue      New  York 


Psychopathology  of  Everyday  Life 

BY  PROFESSOR  SIGMUND  FREUD,  LL.D. 
Translated  by  A   A.  BRILL,  Ph.B.,  M.D. 

Cloth,  demy  8vo,  338  pp.,  index,  $3.50 

This  book,  which  is  largely  concerned  with  psychological 
causes  of  those  slight  lapses  of  tongue  and  pen  and  memory 
to  which  every  one  is  subject,  is  perhaps,  of  all  Freud's 
books,  the  best  adapted  for  the  general  reader  in  addition 
to  the  scientist.  It  sheds  a  flood  of  light  on  many  phenom- 
ena which  most  people  are  apt  to  regard  as  insignificant, 
but  which  are  really  full  of  meaning  for  the  student  of  the 
inner  life. 

"  A  valuable  contribution  to  the  psychoanalytic  literature 
available  in  our  own  language  is  made  by  the  translation  of 
this  important  and  popular  work  ...  the  more  carefully 
the  book  is  studied  the  more  is  one  impressed  with  the  pro- 
found genius  of  the  author  which  guides  ever  farther  into 
those  unexplored  depths  to  which  he  has  given  us  the  open- 
ing key." —  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease. 

"  The  book  is  as  entertaining  as  it  is  useful,  and  will  be 
valuable  not  only  to  the  physician  and  professional  psycholo- 
gist, but  to  pastors,  parents  and  social  workers." — Boston 
Transcript. 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers    64-66  Fifth  Avenue    New  York 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUL  2  9   1963 

JUL  15  RECr* 

MAR  9     1354 

FEB  2  4  RECD 
MAY  12  196? 
a     RBTB 


Form  L9-52M.-7/61  (01437s4)444 


000355324     5 


